The Osgoode Humanities Institute of Ohio
by Amy-Violet
Summary: It all started the first time Tina spoke to Blaine. Their friendship saved her from a miserable freshman year, so of course when Blaine applied to the Osgoode Humanities Institute of Ohio, Tina applied too. Looking back, Tina thinks she might have been better off not going away to boarding school. Tina/Blaine/Sam friendship, now with Blam smut.
1. Prologue

**January 20, 2013**

One of the nurses led Tina to the room that she'd be occupying for the next however long. She had already noticed at least two things that were the same as the place like this she'd been last year: one, they make you wear those weird, hideous hospital pajamas for your first twenty-four hours, and two, the first thing they make you do after your intake interview is write an essay explaining why you're there. These things must be standard practice in teen psych wards.

The pajama thing must be to strip you of your individuality or break down your will or something. Well, whatever. Tina was already pretty broken. The purpose for the essay was more obvious on the surface, but then, in some ways it was less so. They already knew why she was there; they'd talked to her and her mother for quite a long time. So, were they looking for clues in the way she wrote that could indicate her mental state? Were they trying to see if her story remained consistent, if she was a liar? Probably both of those reasons, and others she couldn't think of.

It kind of didn't matter anyway. She didn't have the energy to put up any resistance or to try to play their games to her advantage. She didn't know what "winning" would even mean.

She found it really funny, when they arrived at her room, to see the SP and EP warnings posted outside her door. That was apparently another standard practice, or at least the abbreviations were apparently standard. SP: suicide precaution. Tina wasn't suicidal, but she didn't expect anyone there to believe her. EP was the really funny one: elopement precaution. Not elopement like getting married, but like running away. Where did they think she was going to try to go, exactly?

The nurse gave her a sheet of paper and a pencil and was about to leave her to write her essay. "Can I have more?" Tina asked. "This might take a while." She was actually really looking forward to writing her story. After she got her extra paper and pencils, she would stay up all night writing, in fact.

But, first, where to start? She didn't want to go back to her birth, obviously, or even into her childhood. And she didn't want to jump around. The only way she'd be able to write anything remotely coherent would be to go in strict chronological order. Where it really all started, she decided, was freshman year, when she first talked to Blaine Anderson.


	2. When Tina Met Blaine

**October 9, 2009**

Blaine Anderson sat right in front of Tina in advanced freshman English. He seemed smart and nice and maybe a little cute, though she mostly only saw the back of his head. But she had never talked to him, mainly because she found it extremely stressful to talk to people she didn't know well. And Blaine was new to Kent High. Well, everyone was new there, everyone who was a freshman anyway. But Blaine was new to the whole town.

The reason she finally spoke to him today was that she hadn't done her homework, a vocabulary assignment, and she wanted to find out if it was hard. If it wasn't, she'd try to do it quickly, before Mrs. Field checked. She could have asked the girl to her left, Caitlin Collins, who she'd known since kindergarten, but Caitlin had been super popular since sixth grade. To Tina's right was a window, so that left Blaine.

She tapped him lightly on the shoulder and he turned and smiled at her. Okay, wow, he _was_ cute. Those eyes! "Did you do the homework?" she whispered.

"Yeah." He handed his sheet back to her. "Do you wanna copy?"

She hadn't even really thought of asking to copy. But since he offered, she accepted. She finished quickly and handed his sheet back to him just before Mrs. Field walked down the aisles to check that everyone had done it. One kid hadn't (besides Tina), and Mrs. Field kind of bawled him out. Tina was _so _relieved that that wasn't her and sograteful to Blaine.

After class Blaine introduced himself, although she already knew his name because Mrs. Field took attendance every day. But maybe he didn't know her name; she had never really noticed him turning to look around when Mrs. Field got past the first row of the alphabetical seating chart. "I'm Tina Cohen-Chang," she said.

Tina started walking toward her next class, and Blaine walked along with her. "That's an unusual last name."

Tina went into her usual explanation. "My mom is half-Jewish, only kinda not really Jewish at all because the Jewish half is her father, and it has to be the mother to count. My dad is Korean. Second generation."

"What's the other half of your mom?"

"Also Korean."

"Cool. Anderson's kind of a boring last name. Swedish, in my case, though it can also be English or Scottish. Or Norwegian or Danish but then it's usually spelled –sen. My mother's from Lebanon, though."

"Seriously? That's so cool." What did Tina know about Lebanon? Next to nothing. It sounded exotic and interesting though. "Do you speak...Lebanese?" She hoped that was a real language.

"Not really. My mother doesn't really have anyone to speak it with, so she hardly uses it. Do you speak Korean?"

"I can, like, count to ten."

"That's awesome. I can only count to ten in English and French. In fact..." he stopped walking. They were just outside Mme. Faivre's room. "That's what I have now."

"Cool. I have math next." Tina always referred to it just as _math_, rather than as _pre-calculus_. She was the only freshman in the class and it was sort of embarrassing.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Tina."

"See you, Blaine."

After math was lunch. Tina always sat with this group of three girls she'd been friends with since sixth grade. She couldn't really remember why she'd become friends with them in the first place, and she was starting to wish she hadn't. It wasn't just that they were a lot less smart than she was—which she _never_ would have said out loud, by the way. They were also uninteresting and kind of mean. Like, while they were standing in the lunch line today, there was this unpopular girl wearing orange pants and a kind of ugly pink sweater, and Alexa—she was the meanest one and also sort of the leader—asked her if she was colorblind. The girl said no, and Alexa said, "Well then, no offense, but why would you wear that outfit?" The girl was obviously super embarrassed, which of course was Alexa's goal.

Alexa was also mean sometimes to Tina and Hannah and Liz, the two other girls in their group. Like one time Liz got hair extensions put in, and Alexa didn't like them so she actually ripped one out, which pulled a lot of Hannah's own hair out with it. But then Alexa acted like it was an accident, like she had just been joking around and hadn't meant to really pull it out. And Hannah didn't even get mad! Well, she probably was mad but too scared to say so.

After they got their food they sat at their usual table. Tina was starting to notice that the vegetarian food selections at her school were pretty crappy. She had quit eating meat a couple weeks ago, but she hadn't yet announced it to anyone except her family. She didn't want to have made a big thing about it if it turned out she wouldn't be able to stick to it.

She probably wouldn't have even mentioned it to her family, but they ate together pretty much every night, so it would have been obvious anyway. She had actually made her decision right before dinner one night after reading an interview with Tobey Maguire about why he was a vegetarian. It wasn't just that she thought Tobey Maguire was cute (she did, but her one true love was David Archuleta), but she realized she agreed with everything he said and had for a long time. And she'd assumed for many years that she would quit eating meat when she was an adult, but it just then dawned on her for the first time that she didn't have to wait. Her parents weren't going to like it—well, her dad wasn't anyway—but it's not like he could force hamburgers down her throat.

She did decide to wait until after dinner, though. It seemed like it would be rude otherwise, since her mother was already cooking. And, yes, her decision to eat one last meat meal may have been related to the fact that her mom was making ribs, which were her favorite.

Tina was poking her sauceless school-lunch spaghetti noodles around on her plate, wondering if mixing them with the overcooked green beans would make either food any better. Meanwhile she was thinking about what a sad commentary it was on her life that she didn't even like these girls who were supposedly her friends, who she probably spent more time with than anyone. She wasn't really listening to what they were talking about—some story Hannah was telling about her younger brother, she thought. What caught her attention was Hannah quoting her brother quoting The Hulk: "Hulk crush!"

Tina sighed. She couldn't help it. "Crush" was her favorite, favorite, favorite song, and she was so in love with David Archuleta that she sometimes thought she would die. She couldn't even hear the word _crush_ without hearing the song and seeing his dreamy face. "Oh my God," Alexa said. "Your obsession with David Archuleta is getting really old. I mean, okay, he's cute, but my God."

"Plus you know he's gay, right?" Liz added.

"He's not gay," Tina said. "And so what if he was? I know I'm never even going to get to meet him, so it's not like that would be the _only_ thing keeping us apart." Alexa rolled her eyes and got the other two started on a discussion of how gay David Archuleta was and how Tina must be a fag hag. Tina stopped listening and sang "Crush" over and over in her head.

**October 31, 2009**

Blaine's doorbell rang, so he grabbed the bowl of Halloween candy and went to answer it. It wasn't trick-or-treaters, though; it was Tina. She was like ten minutes early for his party and she was the first one. Actually he was kind of surprised she'd come at all: she was so shy.

"Oh my God, Tina! I _love _your costume!" She had on a really great Heath Ledger Joker costume. "Did you...wow, did you make that yourself?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling shyly. But as she looked at Blaine, her smile disappeared. "You're not wearing a costume. Oh my God, is this not a costume party?"

"Well, not _necessarily_." Blaine hoped someone else would come in a costume. Tina was freaking out already. Oh my God, she was starting to cry. "Tina, it's fine. Don't worry." He led her into his bedroom. It wouldn't be that hard to de-costume her. "Look. If you don't want to wear your costume, even though it's super awesome and you look great in it...I mean, if you just wash the makeup off and wash the green stuff out of your hair, you've pretty much got just regular clothes. I mean, better than regular, because they're awesome. You could maybe not wear the huge purple jacket though."

"You think so?" She was trying hard to control her crying.

"Totally. Those clothes are awesome. Here. You can use my bathroom and bedroom. There are clean towels, a blow dryer, anything you need. Just go ahead and lock the bedroom door, not that I think anyone would disturb you anyway. The party's in the basement. Just come down whenever you're ready. My mom'll be around, she can point you toward us."

"Thanks, Blaine." There, she wasn't crying at all anymore.

Blaine left her and heard her lock the door. He kind of wanted to wait around and make sure she was okay, but a couple more guests had arrived and he didn't want to be rude. He sent them down to the basement, but before he joined them he told his mother about Tina's freakout and asked her to please, please try not to scare her. Not that his mother was a scary person, but she knew what he meant.

There was a pretty good turnout, more than he had expected. Good music, decent food—no alcohol, because his parents were around and anyway he didn't drink. People were talking and laughing and dancing. There was just...there was one guy who Blaine really hoped would show up who wasn't there yet, this guy named Kyle.

Kyle was so cute. Tall, red hair, tons of freckles. Some people might have thought he was gangly or awkward, but to Blaine he was adorable. Smart and funny. _And_ Blaine had met him in the gay-straight alliance, so there was a good chance he was gay. True, there were straight kids in the club—that being the point of a gay-_straight_ alliance. And Kyle hadn't actually said he was gay, but then neither had Blaine. It was weird if you thought about it: a GSA should be like the easiest place to come out. Well, Blaine would; he was pretty close to being ready. If Kyle were to maybe want to go out with him, he'd be ready to come out right away.

But Kyle never did show up. It was all right, though. He'd probably just...well, he'd never exactly promised he would be there. He'd said he would try. So obviously he had tried but hadn't been able to for some reason beyond his control.

Blaine still had a good time, though. Not that he wasn't disappointed of course, but, being new to town, it was good to get to know more kids outside of school. And there was karaoke, and Blaine _loved_ to sing. He tried to get everyone to sing, he didn't want to monopolize the machine or anything. Maybe about half—well, maybe about a third—of the kids there tried it out. Some of them weren't bad.

The big surprise was Tina. When she finally came downstairs, she looked great in her Joker shirt and vest but with her regular hair and no makeup. And she sang "Girlfriend" and was actually really good. But what was even more surprising was that she lost all her shyness while she was singing. It was like she was two totally different people.

Tina, as it turned out, was not only the first guest to arrive but the last to leave. Her mom had called, saying she was running late but would be there to pick her up as soon as she could. So Blaine sat on the front steps and waited with her. It was a really mild night for late October; they didn't need jackets even at 10:30 p.m. Thanks, global warming!

"Thanks for inviting me, Blaine," she said. "I really had fun."

"I'm glad you could make it. I had no idea you were such a good singer."

"Oh! I just do it for fun. You, though, are amazing."

"Thank you. See, that's how you take a compliment. Let's try it again. I had no idea you were such a good singer."

Tina laughed. "Thank you."

"See? Was that so hard?"

"I guess not...Say, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How do have so many friends already when you just moved here? I could never get this many people to show up if I threw a party, and I've lived here my whole life."

"Oh, I bet you could. You've probably just never thrown a party."

"Sure I have. But...well, I guess the last time I had a party was when I turned six. And my parents probably did most of the work."

"See? The trick is to just invite everyone who you know and don't hate. Some people will show up and some won't."

"But..." Tina said, "how do you even _know_ so many people already?"

Blaine shrugged. He'd always been outgoing; he'd always liked to have a wide circle of friends. "From my classes. Band. The GSA. _Bagatelles._" That last thing was the school's literary magazine. "You should join _Bagatelles,_ or at least contribute something. Your writing is really good."

"Oh, I don't...I mean, thank you." Tina looked up at the sky for a few minutes before looking at Blaine again. "Do you mind if I ask you something else? Kind of a personal question?"

"Uh...you can ask, as long as you don't mind if I don't answer if it's _too_ personal."

"Fair enough. I was just wondering...I mean, it kind of looked like you were waiting for someone, like a particular someone, to show up."

"Oh, that," Blaine said. "Was I that obvious?"

"No, not at all. I'm just, like, extra-sensitive."

"Well, there is this...person..." He'd already mentioned that he was in GSA. Tina might be a good person to try this whole coming-out thing on. "There's this...guy. Who I kind of...I mean, I don't really know him that well yet..."

"And...you like him? Like, _like him_ like him?"

"Well, like I said, I don't really know him that well..."

"But?"

"But he's really cute and I think I _could_ like him like him."

Tina nodded. "That's cool."

_That's cool._ It was such a perfect response. Blaine couldn't believe how relieved he was. _That's cool_. He was so happy he kind of wanted to make out with Tina now, even though that didn't make any sense at all. "You're awesome, Tina. Maybe you should join GSA too."

"Yeah. Maybe I will. So...if you tell me who it is, I'll tell you what I know about him."


	3. St Patrick's Day

**March 17, 2010**

Tina pinched Blaine's arm as soon as he sat down in front of her in English. "Ow! Tina!"

"_You_ are not wearing anything green," Tina said. She herself had on a green plaid skirt, green tights, green nail polish, and green hair extensions.

"So?"

"So it's St. Patrick's Day, duh."

"Again: so? I'm not even Irish."

"Oh, like I am. It doesn't matter. If you forget to wear green on St. Patrick's Day, everyone gets to pinch you."

"You are totally making that up, Tina."

"Caitlin?" Tina asked.

Caitlin, dressed in the school's standard blue-and-silver cheerleader's uniform _but_ with green tights underneath, looked up and said, "Duh, Blaine. Everyone knows that." And she leaned forward to pinch him.

"Ow! Is this some weird Ohio thing? And how many people are going to pinch me?"

Tina shrugged. "Frankly I'm surprised I was the first. Matt?" she said to the boy who sat next to Blaine. "Did you happen to notice that Blaine is not wearing any green today?" Matt glanced over and casually pinched Blaine on the forearm.

"Ow!"

"Blaine, Blaine, Blaine," Tina said. "I will take pity on you." She dug around in her bag and pulled out a white necktie with shamrocks on it. "Here. I decided at the last minute that this was too ugly to wear even ironically. But you can have it."

"Wow, thanks, Tina." It really was an ugly tie.

"Or not," she said, pulling it away as if to return it to her bag.

"No, I'll take it! Thank you."

There was an unexpected guest speaker that day, a woman who was there to talk about a new school that was opening up in the fall: the Osgoode Humanities Institute of Ohio. It was a residential high school in Lima for students who were gifted in the humanities and the arts. There were a few sort of similar high schools in the country, but this one was unique. The others had either broader focuses or were focused elsewhere, like on science and math. The Osgoode Institute would offer classes in science and math, of course—it would offer high-quality classes in all the standard high school disciplines—but its main emphasis would be on humanities and the arts. The other thing that set this school apart was that it was a unique and innovative public-private partnership. It got some funding from the state of Ohio, and it fell under the jurisdiction of the Ohio Department of Education. _But _it was also affiliated with Osgoode Educational Enterprises, and furthermore, thanks to the generous support of the Osgoode Foundation, it was able to offer this exceptional educational experience to all Ohio students regardless of financial means. There was tuition, yes, but it was minimal and would be waived for any qualified student whose family met certain financial guidelines.

Some students had questions. "A residential high school?" one girl asked. "So, basically a boarding school?"

"Yes," the woman said, "if you want to call it that. The residential aspect is so important for the learning experience for several reasons. First, of course, is that it allows students from anywhere in the state to attend without unduly disadvantaging some students because of geography. Moreover, learning is a twenty-four hour process. Being surrounded by talented peers and experienced mentors, having enrichment opportunities and world-class arts facilities available at all hours, these things are invaluable."

Someone else asked if uniforms would be required. "No, we recognize the importance of clothing and personal presentation as a part of adolescents' creativity and self-expression."

Blaine had a question. "When you say 'the arts,' do you mean the performing arts? The creative arts? Music?"

"Yes," the woman said. "All that and more. Visual arts, literature...and of course the humanities."

Blaine turned around and raised his eyebrows at Tina. Oh no, was he thinking of applying? He was so smart and talented, he'd be sure to get in. How would Tina get through the rest of high school without him?

She'd already somewhat inadvertently burned her bridges with Alexa and Hannah and Liz. Well, she had known, that first day after winter break when she had not sat with them at lunch, that they would give her some shit for it. She hadn't realized how severe their reaction would be, but she had known it would be unpleasant. But still she had walked past their usual table—thank God the others weren't at it already, which would have made it way harder—and sat with Blaine and some other kids she'd gotten to know a little through him.

And it was so great! Blaine and his friends were nice! And smart! And they had interests and friends beyond just each other, and they didn't think it was weird for someone to sit with them who hadn't sat with them all year!

Still, she dreaded gym class that afternoon, the only class she shared with Alexa and Co. It was the worst possible class she could have with them, since there was usually a lot of standing around, which gave them a lot of time to give her shit.

And they did confront her about it right away. Tina tried to act like it was no big deal. It _was_ no big deal, or at least it shouldn't be. "Come on, guys. We don't have to sit together _every _single day. I just wanted to sit with someone from my English class for once. It doesn't mean I don't want to be friends with you still."

But it very much did mean that they would never be friends again. Not-friends would actually have been fine with Tina, would have been great with Tina, actually. She didn't exactly relish having actual enemies, though. They immediately started in on how she thought she was too good for them (which, in fact, she did, and they were kind of proving her point) just because she was in advanced classes. That didn't get too much reaction from her, so they moved onto making fun of the way she dressed. That particular day she was wearing a Viking-style knit hat with horns on it and fake blond braids hanging down. It wasn't something she would wear in the gym, obviously, but they were having class outside and it was cold.

"You're not Scandinavian, you know," Alexa said. "No matter how much you wish you were. There were no slanty-eyed, Jewish Chinamen Vikings."

"Oh, wow," Tina said. "I knew you were capable of sinking low, but I didn't know you were racist."

"I didn't know you were racist," Alexa repeated in a mocking tone. "It's not racist to state the facts." But she actually let it drop, because her comments were attracting attention. Portage County, Ohio, was not exactly a bastion of diversity and tolerance, but _within_ Portage County, Kent kind of was. College town and all that. Sure there was racism here, Tina knew that, but the blatant, overt kind usually didn't go over well.

And they hadn't let up on her ever since then. Gym was the worst. They made loud comments about Tina pretty much constantly: how she looked in her gym shorts, how hilarious she looked when she executed any kind of activities awkwardly—which was pretty much all the time; gym was not Tina's thing—general comments about her faggy friends. Tina never replied to any of these, especially the ones about her friends. She didn't know if they even meant Blaine specifically. He was out now to a few people besides her, but it wasn't widely known. She didn't want to claim it wasn't true, obviously, since that would imply there was something wrong with it, but she also didn't want to out him to people who didn't already know and who were homophobic, racist assholes.

There was some physical harassment too, though it was mostly subtle enough that they wouldn't get in trouble for it even if they got caught (which they didn't). They would "accidentally" bump into her whenever they could, "accidentally" step on the backs of her shoes while they walked behind her in the halls, and intentionally and obviously target her in dodgeball. At least Tina quickly discovered a way out of that: she would get hit on purpose very early in the game and then sit on the bleachers till class was over. Sometimes she'd even just pretend to have been hit.

Being friends with Blaine hadn't been able to prevent any of this, but it had made it less intolerable somehow. She didn't even confide in him about it, although she probably could have. It was just nice knowing she had _someone_ she could hang out with and feel safe and comfortable with.

And she'd gotten to know a lot more kids she wouldn't have otherwise, just because Blaine seemed to make friends so easily and be able to mix friends from different social groups so seamlessly. He somehow managed to find the people who were nice and interesting and not hung up on which clique you were in. Actually, Tina often wondered why someone so awesome would even be friends with _her_, but she never questioned him about it. She was kind of afraid that the question itself would make him realize that she didn't really have anything to offer him and wasn't worth hanging around with.

If Blaine were to leave to go to this boarding school...It sounded perfect for him, actually. He'd probably love it and do really well there, make tons of friends. But she couldn't help but worry about what she would do, stuck at KHS with her personal team of tormentors, without him. Even though she had become friendly with some other people because of him, she hadn't actually become _friends_ with anyone else. Not, like, close friends.

So Tina really needed to talk to him at lunch—try to find out if he was thinking about it, but without letting on how panicky she was about the idea. Having to walk past her old lunch table—with Alexa loudly commenting that she hadn't realized St. Patrick's Day was big with the Orientals—just made her hope all the harder that Blaine wouldn't be interested in that stupid school.

He certainly seemed to be interested in it, though. He was already telling the other kids sitting with him all about it when she joined them. "Tina!" he said excitedly when she sat down. "This tie has worked like a charm! No pinches at all...though I have had some comments on my fashion taste. So what do you think about that arts and humanities school?"

"Well, it sounds...interesting, I guess."

"Are you gonna apply?"

"What? Me?" Tina said. She was the only person he could be talking to, since the other kids at their table were sophomores and the school was only recruiting freshmen.

"Of course you! It sounds really awesome!"

"I really doubt they'd want me."

"Tina, you really have to stop putting yourself down. You're an awesome writer, a beautiful singer...a freaking mathematical _genius_..."

"I'm not a mathematical genius." She couldn't deny that she was good at math, probably better than any other freshman and most of the older kids in her pre-calculus class as well. But she would never use the word _genius_ to describe herself. "Besides, that lady made it pretty clear that it's _not_ a school for kids who are good at math."

"No, it's just not a school for kids who are _only_ good at math. You're good at lots of stuff. Besides, you know if they're throwing the word _gifted_ around, all their academics will probably be good. How much farther can you really go with math here? After you take calculus next year, that'll be it. Right?"

"Yeah, but I can take classes at the college."

"There's a college in Lima," Blaine pointed out.

"But...How did this get to be about math, anyway?"

"Just apply with me. Okay? You can change your mind later if you really want to. It's not like applying actually commits you to going there."

"I guess..."

"Just come over this weekend. We can work on our applications together. I've been looking at the admissions stuff, and I think we should submit videos. And we should sing. Do you think we should do a song together or just each do totally separate stuff?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to look at the admissions page."

And that's exactly what she planned to do when she got home from school that afternoon. Unfortunately, her brother Charlie was already home and was watching obnoxious YouTube videos. Why oh why wouldn't her parents just get them each their own computer already? She and Charlie supposedly had an arrangement where they could only use the one for half and hour at a time if the other person was waiting, but it never worked out and they were constantly fighting over it.

Tina wanted to just push him aside but decided to try being nice first. "Charlie, I need to look up some school stuff. Could I use the computer if you're not doing anything important?"

Charlie didn't look at her. "I am doing something important."

"You're watching Annoying Orange." Which Tina happened to know he watched solely because it irritated her so much.

"So? The rules are the rules. I get my half-hour to do whatever I want." Those _were _the rules. If one of them needed it longer for an actual homework project, there could be exceptions, but only if their parents were home to intervene.

"Fine. So, you've probably been watching for, like, at least ten minutes already—"

"The time doesn't start until you make your request. You know that." He was right, she did know that. "So I get half an hour from now."

"Fine!" Tina set the timer on her phone and stormed into her bedroom to lie on her bed and listen to music for thirty minutes.

When the time was up and she came back out, Charlie still made no move to get up. "Come on, Charlie. It's my turn."

"Hold on, I'm right in the middle of a video."

"So what? Your time is up."

"There's only six minutes left."

"It's a stupid video you've seen a hundred times already! Go watch it on your phone if you can't live without it for half an hour!"

Charlie paused the video. "See? Now it's gonna take even longer for me to finish watching it because you just won't stop bitching at me!"

"Get out of the goddamn chair, Charlie!" Tina yelled. She grabbed his elbow and tried to pull him out. He retaliated by bending her fingers back. She hit him in the arm and he stood up and shoved her. Tina saw the look in his eye and knew this was not good. Charlie was only eleven, smaller than her, but he sometimes went kind of psycho and really scared her. Before she knew it he was whaling on her and she was in defensive mode. She screamed, but of course there was no one home to hear, except their little dog Sookie. Sookie wasn't very smart, but she was smart enough to stay out of the way.

Tina managed to get away enough to make it into her bedroom. Charlie was trying to follow her in, and she had to leverage herself against the closet wall to force the door shut. There was a lock—she'd finally persuaded her parents to buy her a lock for the door after the time Charlie cut her hand with a fillet knife—but Charlie had already broken the lock. Rather than, say, buy her a better lock, her parents were like, _Meh. Why bother? He'll probably just break that one too_. Or they could have, like, bought a decent door instead of this flimsy, hollow one she had that she could barely keep closed even when she wedged herself against it by sitting on the floor with her back to the door and her legs locked against the closet wall. But no, that was too much trouble, apparently.

And, oh my God, Charlie was _not_ letting up. He didn't sound like he was going to exhaust himself any time soon. Then, abruptly, it was quiet. Tina knew better than to move away from the door, and it was a good thing she didn't: Charlie was back more abruptly than he had left, and he was slamming into the door harder than ever. And then there was a noise Tina hadn't heard before in these situations. She looked up, and _oh shit_, the blade of a steak knife was coming through the door. Thank God she was on the floor. He actually would have stabbed her. He stabbed the door repeatedly, in fact, while Tina sat on the floor and shook and cried uncontrollably.

She didn't know how long she was sitting like that, terrified of what would happen when Charlie inevitably got through the door. He only let up when their mother came home, and then probably only because he was exhausted anyway.

Tina could suddenly see a plus side to living in a dorm three hours away from her family.


	4. The Black Squirrel Club

**June 18, 2010**

Blaine lunged for his phone on the coffee table, falling off the couch and losing his place in his book in the process. It was Tina's ring tone, and he knew she was nervous about not having heard about her Osgoode application. Blaine had gotten his acceptance letter on Monday; it was Friday, so Tina's really should be here by now.

"Hey, Tina," he greeted her, full of cheer and hope. "Any good news yet?"

"No. We didn't even get any mail today. I was wondering if you were busy, or if you mind if I come over to your place?"

"Sure, I'm not busy. Do you have a ride though?"

"Nah. I'll just walk."

"Isn't it like an hour walk?"

"Forty-five minutes tops. Totally worth it, my brother is driving me crazy."

"All right. I'll be here."

It was mid-afternoon; Blaine guessed it was time to take a shower and get dressed. He was still finishing his hair when the doorbell rang. "Tina, if that's you, come on in!" he yelled down the stairs. Hopefully it was Tina and not an axe murderer.

When he went downstairs, she—Tina, not an axe murderer—was lying on her back on the couch, legs over one of the arms. "I'm so booored," she said.

Blaine usually found it irritating when people complained about being bored. Find something to do if you're bored, don't just lie around complaining about it. But then, he guessed that walking across town to hang out with him counted as doing something, and she was probably tired. She looked a little red-cheeked and sweaty still; luckily it was nice and cool in the house. Blaine lay down on the couch so his legs were over the other arm and their heads were almost touching in the middle.

"So what's your brother doing to drive you crazy?"

"Nothing. Just being his usual jerkish self. It must be nice not to have any siblings. That live with you, I mean." Blaine did have an older brother, but he was away at college and not even coming home for the summer.

"Yeah, it's all right...So, do you wanna stay here for dinner, and then my dad can drive us to the show?" They had planned to meet at the show at seven, but he didn't want her to have to walk back home if they were just going to meet up again later anyway.

"Sure, thanks. So now, what is this band we're gonna see?"

"They're called...okay, don't judge them based on their name, okay? They're called Blood-Tinged Mucus, and—"

"Gross! That's so disgusting!"

"Yeah, I know. But Danny's friend is the drummer, and he says they're really good."

"Uh huh," Tina said. "And you really think they'll be awesome? Or you just hope Danny will be there?"

Okay, yes, Blaine hoped Danny would be there. Danny was his father's research assistant, who Blaine had started to crush on at about the same time that he realized Kyle was probably straight, so a couple months ago. Of course, even if Danny was gay—which Blaine was by no means sure of—getting hung up on a grad student who works for your father was probably way more inappropriate than getting hung up on a straight kid your own age. At least if the straight kid your own age ever felt like experimenting or something it wouldn't be a crime. Not that _Blaine_ would be the criminal...But his dad would so kill them both.

"What? Danny has good taste in music. I mean, probably." Blaine craned his neck to try to see if Tina was buying it. He couldn't see her face, though. "Okay, fine, I hope he'll be there."

"Oh, Blaine."

"Hey, what else are you gonna do tonight? You were just saying how bored you are."

"I didn't say I don't want to go. Actually I hope he is there so I can finally see this guy you're always talking about. I'm sure he's no David Archuleta, but..."

David Archuleta. Now _there _was a pointless crush. Tina was actually getting a lot better about it, though. Now when she brought him up it seemed like she was almost making fun of herself for having been so crazy about him.

Tina's mother called her while she and Blaine were setting the table for dinner later. "Crap!" Tina said before answering. "Hi, mom. I'm at Blaine's, sorry I forgot to call...Seriously? Oh my God!" She put her hand over the phone and told Blaine, "My letter from Osgoode came." Blaine crossed his fingers and watched her expectantly. She told her mother, "Yes, open it! No. Wait. Is it thin or thick?"

"Mine was thin," Blaine told her. "So it doesn't matter."

"Never mind, Blaine says they're all thin. Okay. Hold on. Let me just sit down." She pulled a chair several feet about from the table and sat on it. "All right. Open it." She squeezed her eyes shut while her mother opened the letter. Blaine was totally sure she was going to get in, but for some reason he found himself preparing to console her.

Oh crap, she was screaming. Wait. She was jumping up and down while she was screaming. "I got in! I can't believe it, I got in!" Blaine jumped up and down and screamed with her.

Blaine's mother looked in from the kitchen. "What is going on here?"

"Tina was accepted! She's going to Osgoode with me!"

"Congratulations, Tina!" Mrs. Anderson said. But there was no way Tina could hear her over all the screaming.

Blaine put his hands on her shoulders and yelled, "I knew you'd get in!"

The evening took on a celebratory tone. Blaine was really glad Tina was going to go. He didn't especially have trouble making new friends, but he would be glad to have one there from the very start.

That is, assuming she was going to accept her acceptance. She certainly seemed happy about it, and even though she had seemed skeptical about the school at first, he knew she really wanted to get in. So of course she would go.

Blaine was excited to go to this show tonight, and not just because he might see Danny. And even if he hadn't been excited, Tina's happiness was infectious. While they were waiting in the hallway of the student union for the doors to the Black Squirrel Club to open, every so often she would bounce up and down and go, "Yay! Osgoode!"

It turned out that there were three acts playing, not just the one Danny had mentioned to Blaine. Blood-Tinged Mucus went first, and they were _awful_. Really, really dreadful. The lead "singer" just yelled; he seemed to think volume was a good substitute for both tune and talent. The guitar player was inordinately fond of feedback, apparently imagining himself some sort of modern-day Jimi Hendrix. (He was no Jimi Hendrix.) And the drummer, the guy Danny was friends with...Blaine tried really hard to detect some talent in his drumming so he could say something positive about him next time he saw Danny. Because really, what did a drummer need a sense of rhythm for anyway?

One positive thing Blaine did notice about the drummer was that he was gay. Blaine wasn't sure how he knew this. The guy didn't have any stereotypical gay mannerisms or clothing; he didn't look especially effeminate or anything. Blaine had never really been able to trust his gaydar before, but he felt really confident in his intuition about the drummer.

And if Danny's friend was gay, then there was a good chance that Danny was too. Blaine thought he sometimes picked up a gay vibe from Danny, but he wasn't confident in it at all. It was weird, since he'd talked to Danny several times, whereas he had only looked at the drummer once, and in bad lighting at that. But whatever, he stood by his conclusion.

Mercifully, Blood-Tinged Mucus finished their set after twenty minutes and got off the stage. "I am so, so sorry for subjecting you to that, Tina."

"It's okay, they weren't that bad." Her good mood from the letter had apparently anesthetized the part of her brain that recoils at horrible noise. Blaine wished he could say the same for himself.

"Do you want to just go, or should we give the other two bands a chance and hope they're better?"

"Let's stay," Tina said. "They can't be any worse." At least she could still detect when noise was horrible, even if it didn't affect her good cheer.

Blaine excused himself to go to the restroom. On his way back he saw Danny in the hallway! Blaine waved at him shyly, not really sure if Danny would recognize him in a different setting. They had only ever seen each other at Blaine's house when Danny had come over to work with his dad.

So when Danny yelled "Blaine!" and walked over and hugged him, Blaine was surprised and flattered. "Wow, I didn't think you'd make it."

"Well you told me how good they are..."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Wayne is my friend and he asked me to try to get as many people to come as I could, but..." Danny leaned toward Blaine and whispered, "They're not usually _that_ bad, though."

"Oh, I didn't think they were bad."

Danny put his hands on Blaine's shoulders. It was kind of awesome, but also kind of cold: the Big Gulp Danny was holding was resting against Blaine's neck. He looked at Blaine earnestly and said, "You are way too nice, Blaine. Don't let it get you in trouble some day." But then he laughed and punched him in the arm. "Hey, I need a cigarette. Wanna go outside with me?" Wow, Danny thought he was nice _and_ he wanted to hang out with him.

"Okay."

They sat on the steps outside. "Cigarette?" Danny offered, holding the pack out.

"No thanks," Blaine said, though he was flattered that Danny offered him one: it meant he didn't think of him as a kid.

"Sip?" He held out his Big Gulp cup.

Blaine took a sip and almost spat it out. He had assumed it was Coke or something. There probably was _some_ Coke in it, but it was mostly alcohol.

Danny laughed. "Sorry, I should have warned you. I can't sit through a Blood-Tinged Mucus set without being a little drunk." He offered the cup to Blaine again, but Blaine shook his head. "You won't tell your dad about this, will you? Me corrupting you with cigarettes and rum—or trying to, anyway?"

"Of course not."

"Your dad's a smart guy, you know. I wouldn't be surprised if he figures it out somehow anyway...You know, he's going to find a better job than at this crappy university."

Blaine knew the Kent State psychology department wasn't super highly ranked, but he didn't think it was especially crappy, either. Of course, his father probably wouldn't tell him if it were. He asked Danny, "Why did you pick it if it's crappy?"

"You make it sound like I had lots of options, like Stanford or somewhere was begging me to pick them instead. No. I came to a crappy university because I'm not a smart guy like your father. Or like you."

Oh wow, he thought Blaine was smart too. But he shouldn't think of himself as not smart. "Sure you are," he said. I know my father likes you."

"Of course he does. In addition to being a smart guy he's also a nice guy. Again, like you." He put an arm around Blaine's shoulder. Blaine was sure was he meant it in a friendly way, but he stiffened. For some reason it didn't feel as awesome as when he touched his shoulders earlier. "Sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, you're not." He totally was, but he already seemed kind of depressed. Blaine didn't want to make him feel worse. Without knowing why exactly, he asked, "Your friend Wayne? The drummer? Is he gay?"

"Totally. I'm impressed; he's not really that obvious to people whose gaydar isn't pretty good."

"Oh. So, you know that I'm..."

"My gaydar _is_ very good."

"You're gay too, then? Or, I mean, wait. Can straight people have gaydar?"

"I've never met one who did," Danny said. "I mean, anyone can tell with flamers. That doesn't count as gaydar. It's when you can tell with guys like Wayne, guys like you..."

"Guys like you?" Blaine asked.

Danny shrugged. "I can pass for straight. I do, in fact; I'm not out to everyone. Your father doesn't know."

"You could tell him; he's not homophobic. He knows I'm gay."

"That's sort of why I think he wouldn't like it if he knew that I am."

"Oh." Blaine thought he knew what Danny meant by that, but he wasn't totally sure. And then, Danny was apparently drunk, so maybe he didn't mean anything in particular by it at all.

Blaine wanted to get back to Tina. He stood up. Danny didn't remove his hand from his shoulder so much as just let it slide off him. His hand sort of brushed against Blaine's butt, but that was probably an accident. "Well, I need to get back inside," Blaine said. "My friend is probably wondering what happened to me."

Danny stood too. "I'm sorry. I'm drunk and I'm probably creeping you out. Am I creeping you out? I'm not trying to creep you out."

"No, you're not creeping me out. My friend is just probably worried about me."

"Your boyfriend? Are you here with a boyfriend?"

"No. Just a regular friend." Blaine tried to move toward the door but Danny was kind of in his way.

"Sorry. I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"No, it's fine. I really just have to get back."

"Are you sure it's okay? Can I give you a hug so I'll know you're not creeped out?"

"Uh...Okay." Blaine knew he shouldn't have said okay. But now that he had, he should just get the hug over with. And if Danny tried to do anything _more _than hug, then he would definitely not say okay again.

He stood stiffly, arms at his sides, while Danny wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him. Danny seemed to be squeezing him for a long time. Blaine tried to take half a step backwards, but Danny didn't let go. "All right then," Blaine said. Danny gripped tighter and buried his head in Blaine's neck. He took a deep breath. Oh God, he was smelling Blaine's neck!

Blaine didn't want to be rude, but Danny was not taking his hints. _Okay, just walk away. _He was holding on kind of tight, but he probably wasn't expecting Blaine to just leave. Hopefully he wouldn't be able to react quickly enough to stop him._ Walk away fast and forcefully. Don't turn around, don't talk to him anymore._ Blaine could do this. He'd have to if he didn't want to stand here being smelled by this guy all night. Or worse. He broke away suddenly, and it did seem to surprise Danny. Then he looked straight ahead and walked away quickly. Danny was apologizing again, calling himself a huge fuck-up. Blaine resisted the urge to contradict him, to tell him it was fine, and kept walking.

He walked back inside the student union. He was so relieved; Danny didn't seem to be following him. God, why had it thought that would be so hard? Why didn't he just walk away in the first place? Or when Danny asked him if he was uncomfortable, why didn't he just say yes and excuse himself? No wonder Danny kept acting like that. He probably thought Blaine was trying to encourage him.

And he probably was trying to encourage him a little, at least subconsciously. After all, he did have that huge crush on him for so long. He'd had lots of daydreams about being with Danny, but they were sweet and romantic, nothing like...whatever that had been. He definitely had _never_ had any daydream that featured neck sniffing of any sort. That was just really weird.

"What happened to you!?" Tina asked when he returned. "You missed the whole second act." The final act was setting up now.

"Oh. Sorry. Were they good?"

"Actually yes. It wasn't a they, it was a he. One guy singing and playing acoustic guitar. He was very good. And kind of cute."

"Well, I'm sure he was no David Archuleta."

Tina laughed. "Obviously. Where were you anyway?"

"Oh, I ran into Danny."

"Dang, is he still around? I want to see if he's as cute as you say."

"I think he left. Anyway, I realized I don't have a crush on him anymore."


	5. Moving In

**August 21, 2010**

It was Tina's fifteenth birthday today, and it was also move-in day at the Osgoode Humanities Institute of Ohio. Her family sang "Happy Birthday" to her before breakfast, which was birthday cake. Well, Charlie didn't sing, he just slumped and glowered over his cake. "I don't see why I should have to go all the way to Lima with you," he said, "just to dump Tina at her new 'institute' and then turn around and drive back here. I have better things to do on a Saturday."

"We're all going to see Tina off," their father said.

"But why? Give me one good reason."

Tina finished her cake and excused herself to put the last of her stuff in the car. She knew the argument between Charlie and her dad could go in circles for a long time. She usually didn't like to see Charlie win, but in this case...the drive _would_ be more pleasant without him, and they'd have more room in the car for her stuff.

Charlie did end up riding along, but for once he wasn't too unpleasant. If he thought he was bothering anyone by sulking he was dead wrong. The dubstep spilling out from his ear buds was a bit of an annoyance, but other than that, Tina had no complaints.

Tina's roommate was in the dorm room before she was. She had made up the bottom bunk with a bright quilt and a ton of pillows. One of the desks already had a few pictures and knickknacks neatly arranged on top, and Tina could just tell that if she were to open the desk drawers or the doors to whichever of the two wardrobes the girl had chosen, everything would be arranged meticulously. There was a framed photo of Barbara Streisand on the wall. Tina had a weird feeling about this Rachel girl from the e-mails they'd exchanged over the summer, and she had a weirder feeling now.

It's not that there was anything that odd about the decor and arrangement—well, except the Barbara Streisand thing. Tina just couldn't imagine why the school had paired her up with this girl. The roommate matching form asked exactly two questions: 1) Do you like to stay up late or wake up early? and 2) Do you like to keep your room tidy or casual? Tina had marked late and casual—and she had underlined casual for emphasis! She wished she and Blaine could be roommates. Though, come to think of it, he was a bit on the tidy side too. At least he didn't like to wake up early in the morning, which it would not surprise her at all to discover Rachel did.

Tina knew from their e-mail exchanges that Rachel was Jewish, and she hoped the Cohen in her name wasn't the basis for the roommate assignment. That would be, like, religious profiling, which would be all kinds of messed up. Not to mention ironic, because Tina wasn't actually Jewish. Not by Jewish law and not by practice and not by belief. Her father was the only practicing member of any religion in their household, and he belonged to the Korean Methodist Church. He had made Tina go to two years of confirmation class, but at the end of eighth grade when she was supposed to be confirmed she had refused.

That and the vegetarianism were the biggest sources of conflict between the two of them. Her dad worked for Monsanto, in one of the livestock feed divisions. So he had taken her declaration that meat was murder as a bit of a personal affront.

While Tina and her mom were putting away clothes in Tina's wardrobe—which she assumed must be inferior in some way since Rachel had chosen the other one—her mom asked if anyone had seen Charlie. "He snuck off for a cigarette," Tina said. It bugged her that her parents kept pretending not to know that he smoked; he didn't even really try to hide it. That was just one more thing she'd be glad to be away from.

Tina did not have nearly the patience for arranging her crap that her roommate obviously did. The non-hanging clothes she just dumped into drawers in the wardrobe, and her pens and pencils and stuff she just dumped into the desk drawer. Her mom made the bed for her—something she would probably never do after today, especially since she would have to stand on a ladder to do so. She had brought a few posters and things, which she propped in the corner to be hung later. She had _not_ brought any David Archuleta posters. Wow, thank God she got over that phase before coming to Osgoode. It was so embarrassing; she was glad no one here would know about it. Well, Blaine, of course, but he wouldn't tell anyone.

Meanwhile, Blaine and his parents were in one of the boys' dorms, unpacking and arranging his things and getting to know his new roommate, a guy named Zach. Zach seemed very quiet and shy in person, an impression that Blaine hadn't gotten from their e-mails over the summer. Maybe it was just because of all the parents being there, in what was after all not a room designed for two teenagers and four adults.

Not that Zach himself took up much room. He was a pretty small guy, not much more than five feet tall. (His parents were both average height, so he'd probably shoot right up when he hit his growth spurt.) He had kind of a lot of acne and hair that wasn't actually dirty but sort of looked as if it were.

Blaine was so relieved not to be physically attracted to him. If he'd had one reservation about going to boarding school, it was that he might find himself in love with a straight roommate. That would be awkward for everyone and probably torturous for Blaine. He'd found all his crushes so far painful enough without having to sleep in the same room as the crushee night after night.

Zach loosened up a little after the parents left, but not that much. Blaine tried to get him talking about Harry Potter, which he knew from their e-mails Zach liked. They were able to have a halfway decent conversation about that, but Blaine wasn't able to get him to talk about anything personal. Not that he wanted to go poking around into the kid's deep dark secrets or anything, but even, like, questions about Zach's hometown seemed to make him uncomfortable.

Blaine decided not to push him. They'd have plenty of time to get to know each other. Until then he could be happy chatting about Harry Potter or...well, actually Blaine didn't really know any of Zach's other interests. Something else he'd apparently have to be patient to find out about.

It was a relief when three forty-five finally arrived: it meant it was time to meet Tina at the weird mu-shaped sculpture between their dorms. Blaine wouldn't have known that was what it was: Tina had to tell him and then explain that mu was a Greek letter that was used in math a lot. He couldn't get why she didn't think she was smart.

"Are you ready to head over to the school for the assembly?" he asked Zach. "I'll introduce you to my friend Tina and the three of us can walk over there together."

"Oh, uh. No, I don't want to intrude."

"What are you talking about, intrude? You're going to the assembly anyway, right? You wouldn't skip our very first mandatory assembly. So walk over with us. You'll like Tina. You guys have a lot in common."

"Okay. Thanks."

Blaine put his tie and jacket back on before they left the room. True, it was like ninety degrees outside. But he wanted to look nice at his very first official school function. Tina had apparently not had the same thought. He spotted her standing in front of Mu in baggy shorts and a t-shirt, her hair in pigtails.

Tina noticed the way he was looking at her. "What? Unpacking is hard work. And it's hot out."

"The dorms are air-conditioned. And I bet the auditorium is too."

"Good thing there's no dress code at this school!"

"There are no uniforms; there _is_ a dress code." Hadn't she even read the student handbook? Still since she wasn't actually in violation of the dress code, he let it go. He needed to introduce Zach and Tina before he forgot Zach was there. They each said a shy hi to each other. "Today is Tina's birthday," Blaine informed Zach.

"Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

Well, at least he got Zach to speak to someone. Barely above a whisper, but still, Blaine would count it as progress. "Should we wait for your roommate?" he asked Tina.

"Uh, no. I think she wants to make an entrance."

"What do you mean an entrance? She's not going to, like, perform at the assembly or anything is she?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she tries," Tina muttered.

"Sorry, what?"

"Nothing. I just mean that she's getting all dolled up. Kinda like you. If they had co-ed dorms you guys would probably make great roommates. No offense, Zach." Tina did not want to start bitching about her roommate already. Well, she did, but she knew she shouldn't. She should be charitable, give her the benefit of the doubt, or at least hope for the best.

But so far she did not think that she and this Rachel Berry were going to be very compatible as roommates. It wasn't just the neat-freak thing. At least Tina's messiness would probably be more annoying to Rachel than Rachel's neatness would be to Tina. Or, no, that sounded like she _wanted _to annoy Rachel. Rachel's neatness would be less annoying to Tina than Tina's messiness would be to Rachel.

Rachel just struck Tina—so far, and she didn't want to make any snap judgments—but she just seemed so...so...well, _loud_ for one thing. She _projected_ every single time she spoke, even when Tina was only like a foot away.

And she was _so self-absorbed_. Well, maybe that wasn't fair. Maybe she was just trying to introduce herself, like, let Tina get to know her or something. Not that she'd made any effort to get to know Tina. She had literally talked about nothing but herself. Wait, literally? Tina tried to remember if she'd spoken about anything else. Hmm...nope, nothing came to mind.

Maybe she was just, like, a nervous talker. Maybe when things settled down a little bit she'd mellow out. Tina hoped so.

As they walked to the school, Blaine took in the campus for really the first time; when he arrived he'd really only been interested in finding his room. The grounds didn't look much like the pictures on the website. Construction of the dorms, for example, had been completed just days before, so there was just dirt around them, no landscaping or even grass. There was more dirt past the existing three dorms where the ones they would need for next year were going to go. This year, being the first of the school's existence, there would only be a sophomore class; next year there would be sophomores and juniors. So actually, it would be like being seniors three years in a row!

The school building had once been a regular high school, so at least it wasn't still under construction. It was decidedly odd-looking though. It was like a bunker or something: the ground was mounded up around all the exterior walls, so when you looked at it from any kind of distance, it just looked like a roof rising from a small hill. There weren't any windows except by the front entryway. Art class must be kind of weird in a building with no natural light—well, unless the art classroom had one of the emergency exits. Those were glass and not blocked by mounds of dirt. Safety first.

Between the dorms and the school building was a flat square of grass, empty except for another ugly sculpture in the corner closest to the school's front door. It was, like, four metal girders painted reddish orange, bent at different angles and propped up together and plopped on top of a cement block. According to a plaque on the cement block, the sculpture was called Sweven. Blaine really hoped Sweven had already been there when this was a regular high school and was not an example of the type of art they would be taught here. If it was, he would stick to music—maybe painting or something, but not sculpture.

The assembly itself was meant to be inspirational. They were the first class, they were pioneers, they were unique and gifted. They did learn two important things. First, that Roland Osgoode was the greatest patron of education and the arts that Ohio—no, the entire world—had ever seen and was to be spoken of reverently and often. Second, that _Osgoode_, as Blaine and Tina had been referring to it, was not the preferred shortening of the name _Osgoode Humanities Institute of Ohio_: everyone just called it by its acronym, OHIO. Because _that_ could never get confusing.

Oh, and a third lesson they learned afterward: holding an assembly right before dinner meant that everyone would be going to the cafeteria at the exact same time, which led to a very long line with some grumpy kids at the end of it. By the time Blaine and Tina and Zach had gotten through the line and found a table, they had only a few minutes to choke down their food before rushing back to their dorms for wing meetings.

Each dorm had four wings, and each wing had a resident counselor. Wing meetings would be a regular thing, they learned, but tonight's was just so the kids could get to know each other and their RCs. Tina's RC was a woman named Lou who was just out of college. She was very energetic and enthusiastic and very, very loud. She seemed like she'd be fun. And very loud.

She announced to all the girls in the wing that it was Tina's birthday. Apparently she had a list or something, because Tina hadn't mentioned it. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to her—although Rachel didn't just sing it; she performed it—and it was nice, if slightly embarrassing.

Scott, Blaine's RC, was a kind of a nondescript guy with shaggy hair and glasses. He seemed nice enough. Scott paired up each guy with another guy from the wing to interview each other. Then after ten minutes they would each have to introduce the other guy to the group.

Blaine got paired up with a kind of muscular guy with a short mohawk. The guy just looked at him, so Blaine decided to go first.

"Okay, well, I'm Blaine Anderson. And your name is...?"

"Noah Puckerman. But call me Puck. If you call me Noah I'll beat the crap out of you."

Blaine was speechless. Was this guy serious, or was this supposed to be a joke? He forced himself to go on with the interview as if nothing unusual had happened. "Okay, Puck. Uh, where are you from?"

"Toledo. Sorry, dude. I had this bad-ass persona at my old school. I'm trying to get over it, but it's pretty much a habit."

"Oh. So I _can_ call you Noah?" Blaine joked.

"No," Puck said, with a totally straight face.

"I was joking around."

"Dude, don't."

"Okay. So, Puck...uh, which room are you in?"

"Two-oh-seven."

Oh great. They were next-door neighbors. Zach would be terrified. "And...who's your roommate?"

"That blond dude over there. Looks like Justin Bieber." Blaine looked at the guy Noah..._Puck_...was pointing at and, wow, he was gorgeous. He didn't actually look anything like Justin Bieber, except maybe the hairstyle a little. Blaine found himself worrying about him, since he apparently had a psycho for a roommate. The blond kid looked about as big and about as strong as Puck, but something about him seemed vulnerable somehow. He'd have to keep an eye out for him.

It was almost eleven when they finished their getting-to-know-each-other games. Eleven was in-room curfew time, so everyone went straight to their rooms, except a couple guys who wanted to make a last-minute run to the vending machines in the lobby.

Back in their room, Zach went into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. Blaine hadn't mentioned yet that he was gay, and he didn't think he gave off _that_ strong a vibe. So it didn't seem likely to be out of homophobia. Blaine decided he would do his changing in the bathroom too, at least for a while, at least until Zach seemed a little more comfortable.

When Blaine emerged from the bathroom, Zach was in bed and the lights were off. Blaine wasn't tired yet _at all_, but since Zach obviously didn't want to chat, there wasn't much to do besides get into bed. He set his copy of _Catching Fire_ on the top bunk and then climbed up into it, got under the covers, and turned on his reading light. He heard Zach shift in the bunk below him. "The light's not going to bother you, is it, Zach?"

"No. It's fine," Zach said. But he kept tossing and turning so much that it obviously wasn't fine.

Blaine gave up trying to read. He guessed he would just lie there in the dark. He could hear voices and music coming from nearby rooms, but his own was quiet. Until...was the bed creaking? Oh God, was Zach...? Wait, no. No, he was crying.

"You okay, Zach? Homesick?"

The crying stopped, or at least became muffled enough that Blaine couldn't hear it. "Do you mind?" Zach asked, his voice catching. "I'm trying to sleep."


	6. When Blaine Met Sam

**October 6, 2010**

Tina was not happy. "This mandatory assembly is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of," she told Blaine. "I mean, we're stressed out because we have too much work to do. So they make us go to an assembly on stress management—on a weeknight—which means we'll just have less time to get our homework and practicing done. If they want us to be less stressed they should make the teachers go to an assembly on not giving so much homework."

"Well at least glee is canceled tonight," Blaine said.

"Yeah, and we really need the practice!" Tina said. "Well, some of us do." Blaine could hear a song once and perform it perfectly. Why had she even let him talk her into joining? There were like a hundred kids at OHIO who were better singers than she was. Not all of them had joined glee, but only because they were in choir or something else. Or maybe it was because glee had really only gotten started a couple weeks ago and they just hadn't gotten around to it yet. If many more _good_ singers decided to join, Tina would probably get kicked out.

"Maybe this assembly will actually be helpful," Blaine suggested. "Maybe we'll learn time management skills or something."

"I don't need time management skills. I need _time_!"

Tina tried to work on her Spanish homework during the assembly. It was hard, though, to concentrate on irregular conjugations while this...this stress management consultant or whoever he was kept yapping away.

So she put her Spanish book away and pulled out her iPod instead. At least she could try to memorize the song she had to learn by Friday. But then Jennifer Stone, the dean of students, walked up the aisle, saw her earbuds in, and signaled for her to take them out. She was tempted to put them back in as soon as the dean was gone, but she knew if she got caught a second time she'd get the iPod taken away. So she just put her head back and closed her eyes. Maybe if she could sleep a little now she'd be able to stay up later tonight to make up for lost time.

She must have managed to doze off, because the next thing she knew Blaine was elbowing her awake. "Did you learn anything good?" she asked him as they filed out of the auditorium.

"Not really. I learned that Zach apparently skipped the assembly. I looked all around and couldn't see him anywhere."

"I wonder what they'll do to him," Tina said.

"I don't know. I'm pretty worried about him, actually. He skipped all his classes today."

"Holy crap."

"Yeah. When I got back to the room after dance he was still in bed. I thought he'd just gone back early to take a nap, but he said he'd been there all day."

"Do you think he's gonna drop out?" It had only been six weeks, but four kids out of the original 211 had quit already, plus the one girl who just never showed up.

"He doesn't really talk to me, so I don't know. I do know he's not happy here though."

**October 9, 2010**

Zach didn't go to any of his classes the rest of the week. So when his parents showed up Saturday morning and started packing his stuff up, Blaine wasn't surprised. He wondered if he should offer to help. He didn't want to seem like he was eager for Zach to be gone, though, so he didn't.

Instead he sat on the bottom bunk next to his soon-to-be ex-roommate. He thought Zach might tell him to leave, but he didn't. He didn't say anything to him at all—the two just sat there, watching Zach's parents pack.

When everything was in boxes, Blaine couldn't stand not helping anymore; the boxes were heavy and Zach's parents looked sort of on the older side. While Blaine was carrying a large, haphazardly packed box of random junk down the stairs, he collided with the cute guy from the room next to his, Sam. They knew each other a little from around the dorm and from being in glee and history together, but they hadn't really talked much yet.

After they each apologized for not watching where they were going, they looked around at the random junk lying everywhere. The bottom of the cardboard box had ripped too. Blaine started back up the stairs to see if there was another box he could put the stuff into when Sam rested his hand on his arm. "Dude, please tell me you're not dropping out."

"No—"

"Oh, thank God. Glee would totally suck without you."

"Oh, well thanks. I hope none of us will leave; we've got a really great group, I think."

"Where are you going with this box of stuff then?"

"It's my roommate Zach's; he's the one dropping out. I'm just helping carry stuff to his parents' car. His parents are kind of old to be carrying heavy stuff. And Zach is kind of...I won't say _catatonic_, but..."

"I don't think I've ever heard that dude say one word," Sam observed.

"I think he's found OHIO a little...overwhelming."

"Well, I can relate to that. Is there more to carry? I can help."

With Sam and Blaine both carrying stuff it didn't take long to get everything out. The biggest pain was all the junk on the staircase. There weren't any extra boxes, and the best they managed to find to put it all in was a plastic garbage bag.

After Zach and his parents left, Sam and Blaine stood around in the half-empty room. "Thanks for your help," Blaine said.

"No problem. Sorry you won't have a roommate now. It might get kinda...boring."

"Well, Zach wasn't the greatest company anyway, so I doubt I'll notice much difference. Except, you know, more room for all my stuff."

Sam laughed. "You could probably use it, dude. I don't think I've seen you wear the same outfit twice."

"Well not the same _outfit_ maybe. But with a few basics, some mixing and matching, some accessorizing..." Blaine trailed off, realizing Sam had no interest in accessorizing. He was pretty much a jeans-and-t-shirt kind of guy. Maybe a hoodie if it was chilly. "So, _your_ roommate. Do you guys get along?"

Sam shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't we?"

"No reason. You don't think he's a little..."

"Nah, he's a good guy. He used to act like a badass at his old school, but he's really toned it down. I think he's disappointed that OHIO doesn't have a football team though. He was pretty good, apparently. I used to play too, but I don't really miss it." Sam sat on the floor, his back against the now-stripped bottom bunk bed. Blaine sat down facing him with his back against Zach's former wardrobe.

"Were you good?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah. But my parents were probably gonna make me quit anyway, at least until I got my driver's license. We live kinda far from the school, so getting me to and from practices was a pain in the ass."

"Where do you live? When you're not here, I mean. On a farm or something?"

Sam laughed. "No, man. In a park. Cuyahoga Valley."

"You live _in_ a national park? Is your family a bunch of hardcore campers?"

"We do like camping, but no, we live in an actual house inside the park. My dad's in charge of facilities management there, so they need him to be there in case there's an emergency."

"Wow, that must be cool," Blaine said. What he was really thinking, though, was that it must suck to be that far from civilization. Cuyahoga Valley was beautiful and everything; he'd been there many times. But...to live there? "I'm from Kent, so..."

"Oh, so we're practically neighbors! At OHIO _and _in real-life Ohio."

"We should totally carpool for, like, school breaks or something." Blaine worried, as soon as he'd said it, that it might sound presumptuous. Or like he was coming on to Sam, which he would never do since he was pretty sure Sam was straight.

Sam didn't seem to think it was weird, though, and just said, "Totally."

Three hours in a car with Sam. That could be awesome. Unless...Blaine hadn't met anyone yet at OHIO who seemed homophobic, but if there were someone, maybe it would be a former football player? Blaine didn't want to stereotype Sam, but he did wonder now. How to bring up the subject casually...?

"I'm gay, by the way." _Nice, Blaine. Very casual._

"Oh." Sam was obviously surprised. Hopefully just by how the declaration had come out of the blue. "Kurt is too, right?" Kurt was another kid who was in glee with them.

"Yeah." Blaine and Kurt had shared coming out stories. It had been harder on Kurt than on Blaine. Well, not just the being out part. The being gay part itself. Kurt would have had a hard time passing for straight if he'd wanted to. It almost made his coming out moot.

"And there's a kid in my English class," Sam said. "Jeff Sterling. Do you know him?"

"Blond guy? About your height?"

"Yeah. I think he is too."

"Really?" Blaine had not heard this yet. If it was the guy he was thinking of, he was very good-looking.

"That's what I heard. I heard him sing once and he has an awesome voice that would be great for glee. We should try to recruit him." Sam bit his lower lip and looked like he was forming a plan. "_You_ should try and get him to join glee, and you can ask him out at the same time."

"Ask him out? I don't even know him."

"Maybe not yet. But I can tell from the way you looked when I mentioned him that you think he's hot."

**October 20, 2010**

Naomi Franck, OHIO's "communications director" (i.e., PR department head), popped her head into the choir room. "Mr. Schuester? Could I talk to you for a minute?"

They were right in the middle of a number, but Mr. Schue told everyone to take five and went out into the hallway.

"What do you think it is this time?" asked Artie. Interruptions like this were not rare.

"Roland Osgoode probably needs someone to suck his dick," Sam said.

Tina couldn't believe he'd said that, and with three gay kids in the class. "Sam!" She glanced at Blaine and Kurt and Jeff. Plus Rachel had two gay dads, but Sam probably didn't know that.

"What? That wasn't offensive to gays, was it?"

"It was offensive to good taste," Rachel said.

Mr. Schuester and Ms. Franck reentered the room, followed by some guy with an expensive-looking camera. "Guys," Mr. Schue announced, "we're going to have some pictures taken for the website during practice. Just act like you always do, don't pay any attention to the photographer."

"The photos should look unposed," Ms. Franck clarified, in case they hadn't gotten the point.

The kids lined up the way they had been, hoping to pick up where they left off. "Hold on a minute," the photographer said.

He and Ms. Franck had a whispered conversation, and she said, "Tina, can you stand next to Mercedes, please? And Santana, can you stand on Mercedes's other side? No...you stay where you are, Brittany." Santana and Brittany, like Tina and Blaine, were best friends from the same town. They were inseparable. Brittany couldn't even sing very well, not even as well as Tina; everyone assumed she had only joined glee because of Santana. But then, Tina had joined because of Blaine, so who was she to criticize? "Good. And, Artie, can you roll your wheelchair over in front of the girls? In front of Mercedes?"

"This is going to mess up our harmonizing," Blaine commented to Tina before she walked to her newly assigned spot.

"Yeah, but it's for the website, so we need the Asian kid, the black kid, the Hispanic kid, and the wheelchair kid all in the same shot. If you looked a little gayer you could probably be in the picture too."

Santana and Tina and Artie had rearranged themselves as instructed. They were just about to start practicing when Ms. Franck interrupted them one more time. "Sorry, everyone. Before you start, Kurt, could you go stand next to Santana?"


	7. I Am Large, I Contain Multitudes

**November 16, 2010**

"'A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands—' Come in!"

The door opened. "Hey, dude. What are you doing?"

"Hey, Sam. I'm trying to memorize my section of Whitman for tomorrow." Blaine and Sam both had Dr. Hellman for English, though not during the same period. The man was a Walt Whitman maniac; this week everyone had to read a passage aloud from memory. "Have you learned yours yet?"

"Not exactly. The only line of my section I can remember is 'I am large, I contain multitudes.' That doesn't have any hidden gay meaning, does it?"

"Totally. Before it was censored the line went 'I contain multitudes of cocks in my ass.'"

Sam picked up a koosh ball on Blaine's desk and threw it at his head. "Smart ass."

"Smart enough not to take multitudes. Not all at once, anyway."

Sam laughed. "Hey, mind if I hang out here for a while? Puck snuck his girlfriend in."

Blaine gestured for him to make himself at home and Sam plopped down on the bottom bunk—the one Blaine slept in now that he was roommateless. "I didn't know Puck was going out with anyone."

"Sofia. It's a new development."

"Sofia Draganova? From glee?" Blaine had to clarify because there was also a Sophia Turner.

"Yeah, but I don't think he likes her for her singing voice. I think he likes her for her..." Sam held his cupped hands out in front of his chest.

Blaine leaned his chair back against the wall and threw the koosh to Sam. They played catch with it for a while until it landed on the top bunk and neither one of them wanted to get up to retrieve it.

"So how many _have_ you taken at once?" Sam asked.

"What? Oh." Blaine felt himself blush. It was his own fault: what had he been thinking, making a gay sex joke with Sam? "None. Zero."

Sam chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, me neither. I mean," he hastened to add, "I haven't done _anything_. Like with a girl or..."

"Nothing? But you've had girlfriends, right?"

"No...Why? Is that super weird?"

"Not _weird_. Just surprising, I guess. You're so...I personally know at least a dozen girls who would kill to go out with you."

"Yeah, whatever, man. What about you though? I mean with boyfriends."

"No."

"Well, what about Jeff? He's cute, right? Or Kurt? Or...there must be other gay guys here."

"More than at my old school, for sure. But it's not like I can just pick any gay guy I want and snap my fingers and he'll come running."

"Why not? You're a good-looking dude."

Blaine stared at him, totally at a loss for words.

"No, I mean. That wouldn't be weird if a girl said it to another girl, right? Without them both being lesbians? So why can't I give you a pep talk? Especially if it's true."

"Uh, okay. Well thanks."

"No problem. So look, Jeff is in my English class and it's right before lunch. I'll get him warmed up with some sexy gay Whitman stuff, and then I'll steer him over to your lunch table."

Blaine sighed. Jeff _was _pretty cute, actually. That blond hair that hung in his eyes... "All right. But please, please don't ask him how many multitudes he's taken at once."

**November 20, 2010**

Oh, Jesus Christ. Rachel was singing in the shower. Seven o'clock in the morning on a Saturday and Rachel was singing in the goddamn shower. Tina covered her head with her pillow, but it didn't help.

The water stopped and so did the singing, thank God. Tina hoped she'd be able to go back to sleep. But no. Rachel opened the bathroom door and stuck her head out. "You're not going to sleep through glee practice, are you, Tina?"

"Glee practice is at eight thirty," Tina mumbled. Which in itself was entirely too early for a Saturday. Yeah, sure, they only had a week left until sectionals. But why couldn't they practice this afternoon instead of this morning? Just because the soccer team had a game in the afternoon... There were only two glee kids on the soccer team, Sam and Finn, so it wouldn't have been that hard to have practice without them for once. But the cheerleaders were also going to the soccer game, so that meant Santana, Brittany, Sofia, Nicki, and Jeb would also be gone.

OHIO was the only school Tina knew of where the cheerleaders cheered at soccer games. Cheerleading was actually a way bigger deal at OHIO than any of the sports, because so many dance kids were in cheer. And dance was important, whereas sports were just for fun. Cheer wasn't necessarily more important than glee—dance and music were both important—but they could reschedule a rehearsal a lot more easily than rescheduling a game against another school.

"It's seven fifteen already," Rachel informed her.

Tina knew what time it was. She knew because she was awake. And she didn't want to be awake when she could sleep another hour and still make it in time. She didn't see any reason to primp for glee practice. All she needed to do was roll out of bed, exchange her sleep pants for jeans, put a bra on under the t-shirt she slept in, brush her teeth, and run a brush through her hair. She could eat a Pop-Tart on the way to the choir room.

Rachel left for the cafeteria to get something more nutritious than a Pop-Tart for breakfast, so thankfully Tina was able to get back to sleep. She slept until eight twenty-five and _still_ made it to practice more or less on time. Suck on that, Rachel.

It was already time for lunch when practice got out. Sam walked to the cafeteria with Tina and Blaine. "So, you wanna watch some _Veronica Mars_ this afternoon?" she asked. She and Blaine had finished season one last weekend, and she was eager to get started on season two.

"Oh." Blaine looked awkwardly at Sam. "I'm going to the soccer game."

"_Why?_ No offense, Sam."

"You know. I thought it would be fun. Cheer on the team. I'm thinking of joining, in fact."

"What!?"

"Sam's been talking about it, and it sounds like fun."

"It's great stress relief," Sam said. "You know, running around, getting all dirty and sweaty..."

"Getting concussions," Tina said. "It sounds revolting."

"Are you sure, Tina?" Blaine said. "You're more than welcome to come along."

Something about the way Blaine said that was deeply troubling. Tina couldn't quite put her finger on why...

Holy shit. These last few weeks when Sam had been tagging along with her and Blaine? Now _she_ was the one tagging along with _them_!

**November 24, 2010**

Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Tina and Blaine were waiting in the lobby of Tina's dorm for their ride home, Tina with her arms crossed and lips pursed. Blaine didn't understand why she was acting so pissy, except that it had something to do with Blaine having invited Sam to ride along with them. The was he saw it, why should one of Sam's parents have to take the day off work just to drive all the way to Lima and back, when Tina's dad had the day off anyway and was planning to drive to Lima and back anyway for Blaine and Tina? It wasn't like anyone was asking Mr. Chang to drive out of his way, even; Sam was going to hang out at Blaine's until one of his parents came to get him.

"I know this is about Sam, but I actually thought you'd be happy to have him ride with us. This way there won't be room in the car for Charlie."

"Why do you think my dad would pull Chucky out of school just to drag him along to pick us up?"

"Oh, right. I forgot most schools don't have today as a holiday."

"You didn't even really ask me if it was okay," Tina complained. "You didn't even _mention_ your little plan until last night."

"I'm sorry, Tina. It never occurred to me that it would upset you."

"It doesn't upset me, exactly. It's just that—"

"Shh. Here he comes." He didn't want Sam to overhear them and feel like he was intruding or anything.

Sam had just entered the lobby with a backpack over his shoulder and a giant grin on his face. "Hey, Blaine! Hey, Tina! Happy almost Thanksgiving!"

"Hey, Sam," Tina said.

"Happy almost Thanksgiving to you!" Blaine said.

"You look like you're in a good mood," Tina said.

"Of course! Aren't you guys? I haven't been home since school started! I get to see my mom and dad, my brother and sister. My aunts and uncles and cousins are coming for dinner tomorrow. We'll have turkey and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. What's not to be in a good mood about?"

"Wow. It sounds very Norman Rockwell," Tina said.

"Maybe Thanksgiving's not as much fun if you're a vegetarian. You're a vegetarian, right, Tina?" She nodded. "Well, then what do you eat for Thanksgiving?"

"Well, this is only my second Thanksgiving of being a vegetarian. Last year I ate corn and that green bean stuff with the mushroom soup. And pie."

"Ah. Well, who doesn't love pie? Besides, it's not really about the food anyway, right? It's about seeing your family. Won't you be glad to see them again?"

"Uh...I'll be glad not to have to spend the _whole_ weekend with them." Sectionals were Saturday in Dayton, so everyone in glee was going to meet there Friday. They'd spend Friday and Saturday nights at the Holiday Inn Express and go back to OHIO together in a bus on Sunday.

"Oh come on," Sam said. "Just admit you miss your family. Just think how happy they'll be to see you again."

But Tina seemed determined to be all cynical and try to extinguish Sam's enthusiasm. She barely even spoke at all the whole ride home. She and her dad sat in the front seat pretty much just staring straight ahead the whole time, while Blaine and Sam found plenty of stuff to talk about in the back. Video games, music, their families...

Sam was talking about his little sister's imaginary friends Tree, Flower, and Gas (who was always doing bad stuff that Stacey would unfairly get blamed for) when he stopped mid-sentence to punch Blaine in the arm and go, "Slug bug!"

"Ow! What the hell, Sam?"

"Green one."

"Green one what?" Blaine asked, rubbing his arm when Sam had hit him.

"A green slug bug." Sam saw Blaine's blank look. "You know? A Beetle?"

"The car," Tina said, not looking behind her. "Not the insect."

So apparently there was this game where if you saw a Volkswagen Beetle, you got to punch someone and yell "Slug bug!" And apparently _everyone_ knew of this game except Blaine. Even Tina's dad acted like it was common knowledge. Blaine caught onto the game quickly—there wasn't much to catch onto, after all—and he had racked up eight slug bugs by the time they pulled into Kent. Sam was clearly the winner, though, with fourteen, not to mention what was sure to be a much smaller bruise than Blaine was going to have. Tina didn't play at all, although she obviously knew how. She seemed to be off in her own little world up there in the front seat.

Ordinarily Blaine would have assumed that it was probably just because she couldn't reach anyone to slug—except her dad, who probably wouldn't have appreciated it. But combined with her general pissiness earlier and the fact that she barely even said good-bye when dropping Sam and him off...well, it sort of seemed like something was up.

He would have asked her about it, but he was really eager to play some Halo with Sam before Sam's mom came. He had gotten the new one for his birthday in September, but since they weren't allowed to have Xboxes at OHIO, he hadn't even tried it out yet. He just reminded himself to ask Tina later if something was wrong.


	8. Thanksgiving

**A/N Updated on June 17 to change the name of the OHIO glee club and with a few minor edits/corrections.**

**November 25, 2010**

Tina's grandmother cooked a bunch of Korean food for Thanksgiving. Not _only_ Korean food, but a lot of it. It was weird, actually, since her family had always kind of gone out of its way to make Thanksgiving super American: pretty much like the one Sam had described. Besides, there was a Korean Thanksgiving (sort of) that was separate.

Tina's cousin Jared was all up in arms about the menu changes. "Grandma, we already _had_ Chuseok! Thanksgiving is supposed to be turkey and stuffing."

"I got a turkey, too," their grandma said.

"What, that processed turkey loaf I saw the wrapper for in the garbage? This is my _last_ Thanksgiving before college! I thought it would be nice."

"What are you saying?" their great-grandmother interjected. "Korean food isn't 'nice'?" To her daughter she added, "You should have passed down more Korean recipes to the girls."

"June and Michelle don't cook, Umma. They're American."

"I don't mind Korean food, Halmoni," Jared said to his great-grandma. "It's just not traditional. At Thanksgiving I mean."

"Jared. This is Tina's first visit back home since she went away to school. She wasn't here for Chuseok. _And_ since she's a vegetarian now, I thought it would be nice to make some food she could actually eat."

"Oh God. So there's tofu?"

"Yes, of course there's tofu."

"Thank you, grandma," Tina said, giving her a hug. "That's so sweet." Tina wasn't actually much of a tofu fan either, but it was really nice anyway.

Charlie decided to join the bitch session. "Tofu is not a Thanksgiving food!"

"I asked my friend Kay what her vegetarian daughter makes for Thanksgiving," Tina's Aunt Michelle said, "and she told me lasagna. That wouldn't be traditional either."

"Thanks a lot, Tina," Jared muttered. He plopped down in a chair and picked up a copy of his grandparents' _Reader's Digest_.

Tina grabbed a stack of plates from the kitchen and took them to the dining room to set the table. Her other cousin, Nathan, took the silverware and went out to help her. "Are you mad at me too?" Tina asked him.

"What? Oh. No. Sorry, I wasn't really paying attention to whatever Jared was going on about. I'm..." he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I had a lot to drink last night."

"Seriously?" Tina never drank when _she_ was a freshman. She never drank now.

Nathan told her a little about this party he'd been to. He didn't mention where the alcohol had come from, or the pot, but just the fact that there were both there struck Tina as equal parts shocking and cool. The part about having to run from the cops, though—that was terrifying. Tina knew if she ever had to run from the cops she'd get caught. She wasn't that fast. Nathan had obviously gotten away, though.

The rest of the family trickled in with place settings and food. Everyone sat silently while Grandpa Cohen recited a Hebrew prayer that no one understood: "Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam..." When he had finished and everyone started passing the food around, he said, "So, Tina. Tell us about your school."

The inquiry surprised her for some reason. She hadn't really prepared an answer that didn't include petty complaints about her roommate or the homework or the administration and their weird, cult-like worship of Roland Osgoode. She said something vague about there being lots of great teachers and really interesting kids. And then he asked about glee sectionals Friday, which Tina _really_ didn't want to talk about because she was so not ready for them. As she flailed around for something to say, her mother took pity on her and asked Jared about colleges he was applying to. Jared was happy to talk at length, so Tina wasn't put on the spot again.

XOXOXO

Blaine opened the front door. He knew Danny was coming to their house for Thanksgiving, but he didn't think he'd bring flowers. What the hell?

"Oh, hey, Blaine. Is your mom in the kitchen? I brought flowers."

Oh. Oh right, of course. A hostess gift. "Yeah, go on in."

Blaine went back to the living room where Cooper was messing around on the piano. "Was that dad's research assistant or mom's coworker?" Cooper asked without looking up.

"Research assistant," Blaine said. "What do you think of that guy?"

"Who, the research assistant? I don't remember if I've ever even met him."

"Oh, right," Blaine said. "Duh."

"Why? What do you think of him?"

"I think he's...kinda creepy."

The piano went silent and Cooper looked up. "What do you mean 'creepy'?"

"No, nothing. It's just, like, a vibe I get from him. It's probably nothing."

Blaine's dad came into the living room carrying a tray with hummus and baba ghanouj and pita bread and raw vegetables, and Danny followed him with a bottle of wine and some glasses. The doorbell rang and Blaine got up to let in their other guest, a coworker of his mother's who had just moved to Ohio and didn't know many people yet.

The woman was younger than Blaine expected, around Cooper's age probably. "Hi, you must be..." Blaine knew his mother had mentioned her name, but he couldn't remember it.

"Ingrid Jensen," she said, and she shook Blaine's hand. "This is a lovely home."

"Ingrid, is that you?" Blaine's mom called. She came out of the kitchen and gave her a hug. "I see you've met my younger son, Blaine. Come on in and I'll introduce you to everyone else." Ingrid handed her a bottle of wine, and she asked Blaine to bring in some more wine glasses from the kitchen.

Blaine brought in two more glasses and a can of Diet Coke for himself. His mother whispered to him, "What are we, savages? Use a glass, honey." So he had to go back to the kitchen for a glass.

Danny followed him in. "Can I give you a hand?" he asked.

Blaine jumped. "No thanks. Just getting a glass for my soda."

"You're not having wine?"

"He's _fifteen_," Cooper said.

This time Danny jumped, obviously not realizing he'd been followed. He shrugged. "It's a holiday."

Cooper and Danny stood looking at each other. Blaine didn't know if he was supposed to leave or what. So he went to the fridge for some ice.

"So..." Danny said to Cooper. "That friend of your mom's is pretty. I bet she's trying to set you up with her."

"I doubt it," Cooper said. "Besides, I'm an actor, so..." Cooper had dropped out of UCLA when he got a role in a TV commercial. That was in September, and it was his only acting job so far. He had modeled in a couple print ads, though.

Danny tried to catch Blaine's eye to give him a _What the hell does that mean?_ look, but Blaine ducked back out into the living room. Cooper and Danny returned also, and Cooper sat at the piano again and started playing.

Ingrid was standing next to Blaine, and she said to him, "Wow, your brother's really good."

Blaine was grinning. "Yep."

"I recognize that song, I just can't think of it," Ingrid continued. "It's on the tip of my tongue. It's...it's..."

"'Creep,'" Cooper said, looking right at Danny.

Danny developed a migraine not long after that and had to leave before dinner started. Everyone else had a lovely evening.

XOXOXO

Sam had been...if not an accident, exactly, then certainly a surprise, coming into the world when his father was nineteen and his mother barely eighteen. His early arrival had served as a cautionary tale for his parents' siblings, all of whom held off on having children until their thirties at least.

So Sam was the oldest among the cousins by a long shot, making him in charge of kid-wrangling whenever they all got together. Not that he minded: they all sort of worshipped him—except for the baby, whose mother held her pretty much constantly. (Sam wasn't entrusted with her, obviously.)

While his parents and aunts and uncles cooked and/or watched football, he got the kids bundled up and took them outside. There's lots of room to play when you live in a national park, but he kept them pretty close to the house: he knew some of them would need bathroom breaks and might not be able to hold it long enough to get back to the house if they went too far.

The one game he knew that could keep everyone busy for the longest, from the littlest ones up to his nine-year-old cousin Jacob, was zombie tag. Well, okay, saying it kept the littlest ones busy was a bit of an exaggeration. His three-year-old cousin Annabel and two-year-old cousin Milo weren't _that _into it. But they didn't need that much in the way of entertainment; they were fascinated by shit like leaves and sticks. (And if Sam had taken them on a nature walk, they would have been fascinated by all the literal shit of various animals that he could have pointed out.) So those two he just had to keep from running off or stabbing someone in the eye with a pointy stick. His four-year-old cousin Ryan was freaked out by Jacob's zombie impression, but when Ryan got to be on Sam's "team" he felt much better. Overall, Sam considered zombie tag a huge success, especially since after they went in to eat, half the kids left the table before dessert and fell asleep.

He was a little tired too, especially after all the turkey and potatoes and pie and everything else, so he didn't put much effort into entertaining the kids after dinner. Or, any effort, really—he went to the basement to watch football with his dad and uncles.

"How's your football team doing this year, Sam?" his Uncle Hugh asked him during a commercial.

"My new school doesn't have a football team."

"What? What kind of high school doesn't have a football team?"

"Remember, Hugh, Sam's going to that arty high school now?" That was his Uncle Colin.

"But you're really good," Hugh told Sam. "With a lot of hard work you could probably get a scholarship for football. Why would you pick an art school over that?"

"Sam's as good an artist and musician as he is a football player," Sam's dad said.

"Those are fine for hobbies. But what are you going to do, Sam? Draw doodles on napkins for a living? Play your guitar on street corners?"

Sam didn't even know how to begin to answer that. It wasn't like napkin doodler or pro football player were his only two career options. Why would he doodle on napkins in the first place? And, napkin doodling aside, why would Uncle Hugh think he'd be more likely to succeed in football than art or music? Football was fun, but was that really all he was good at?

"Leave him alone, Hugh," Sam's dad said. "It's a good school. He likes it there, and he'll have plenty of options for college."

"Do you like it there, Sam?" his Uncle Colin asked. "Even without football?"

"Sure," Sam said.

"All right then. He likes it, Hugh—knock it off."

**November 26, 2010**

Tina and Blaine walked down the hallway to the pool. They'd had a decent time at dinner with all their parents—and Chucky had refused to leave the hotel room, so there was that—but now Tina just wanted to hang out with Blaine. She was almost sorry she hadn't packed a swimsuit. But other glee kids would probably be in the pool too, so—no.

They were the first of their teammates there. Blaine didn't feel like getting in the pool by himself, so he just sat on the edge with Tina, both of them dangling their feet in. They watched some other kids around their age messing around in the water and wondered if they were the competition. Blaine told her about seeing Danny on Thanksgiving.

"You should tell your dad about that guy," Tina said. "I bet he'd fire him."

"Yeah, but do you think he really deserves to lose his job?" Blaine asked. "He didn't even really _do _anything to me. Besides, I think he's actually kinda scared of Cooper, which is hilarious because Cooper is so not a badass."

"Maybe Cooper wouldn't be afraid to tell your dad, though."

"I'm not _afraid_ to tell him. It just wasn't that big a deal."

Tina grabbed Blaine by the shoulders and sniffed his neck deeply. He actually smelled really good, but she didn't say that, of course.

"Tina, what the hell?"

"See? It's weird."

"I didn't say it wasn't weird. I just don't think it's worth running to my dad to tell him about."

Sofia and Nicki came into the pool area, both wearing bikinis and looking amazing. Seriously, how could these girls be the same age as Tina? Tina barely had anything to fill out a bikini top with—not that she'd be seen dead in one. And it wasn't just their chests; it was their legs, their stomachs, their arms—everything. If Tina had any kind of coordination maybe she could join cheer or one of the other dance groups and then maybe she'd eventually look like that. Ha, yeah...

Speaking of perfect cheerleaders in bikinis, here were Brittany and Santana now. Unlike Sofia and Nicki, who walked into the water slowly, complaining about how freezing it was with every inch deeper they got, Brittany and Santana held hands and jumped in the deep end. Well, the "deep" end being five feet. After a couple minutes Santana swam under the water, and when she resurfaced, she was holding Brittany on her shoulders. Santana looked at Sofia and Nicki and said, "Chicken fight, bitches."

Nicki raised her hand to the tight ballerina bun on her head. "No, Santana...we don't want to get our hair wet..." Brittany and Santana somehow managed to dunk both girls without Brittany falling off Santana's shoulders. And the chicken fight was on, such as it was. Nicki and Sofia didn't stand a chance.

Sam and Finn were the next to arrive; they both did running cannonballs into the pool. Sam's cannonball got water all over Tina's dress.

"Sorry," Sam said when he saw how much he'd splashed. Except it seemed like he was apologizing mostly to Blaine, who didn't even get as wet and anyway was wearing swim trunks. "Dude, why aren't you in the pool, anyway?"

"I'm just keeping Tina company. She forgot her suit."

"That sucks." Something behind Blaine and Tina seemed to catch Sam's eye. "Tina, do you think Jeff is good-looking?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'm pretty sure he's gay though."

"No shit. I'm talking about for Blaine. Don't you think Blaine should ask him out?"

"Sam..." Blaine noticed that Sam's eyes were somewhere else and he turned around. "Oh shit, he's here!"

"Talk to him, dude. You got him to join glee. I'm sure you can get him to go out with you."

"Sam, I don't..."

"Fine. I'll talk to him for you."

"Sam!" Blaine protested, but Sam had already swum over to where Jeff was getting in the pool. "This is so embarrassing," he said to Tina.

"Go tell him not to do it, then."

"I'm pretty sure he's gonna do it no matter what I say." Jeff and Sam turned from where they were standing along the opposite edge of the pool and looked at them; Sam waved. Blaine waved shyly back. He kept watching even when they weren't looking his direction anymore. "What do you think they're talking about?" he asked.

"The meaning of life, probably," Tina said.

Blaine laughed. "That one's easy. Forty-two."

They both jumped to hear Mr. Schuester's voice amplified by a bullhorn: "Attention, Osgoode Vibrations! It is nine p.m. You are to leave the pool area now, return to your rooms, and go straight to sleep."

Lots of groans. Under his breath Blaine said to Tina, "I haven't been sent to bed at nine since I _was_ nine." But they all went back to their rooms, as instructed. They did have a big day tomorrow, and they wouldn't win sectionals if they were yawning during their songs.

**November 27, 2010**

They lost. They fucking lost at sectionals. How the hell could they lose? They were supposed to be super talented and gifted and shit. The most promising young artists in the state.

It was mostly Tina's fault, of course. Here she'd been feeling all smug because she could sing slightly better than a couple of the kids, like Brittany and Jeb. Actually only better than those two; everyone else was way better than her. But she was _by far_ the worst dancer. People sometimes made fun of Finn for being clumsy, but she was way worse. They probably just didn't make fun of her out loud because they thought it would make her cry or something. And it probably would have. God, she was so fucking pathetic. Blaine was so nice telling her she was good and she belonged on the team, but she never should have let herself believe him.

Oh fuck, if there was one person who was going to tell it like it was, it was Rachel. Rachel, who she would not be able to avoid. Rachel, who was taking the loss worse than anyone. She was sobbing hysterically, while Kurt and Mercedes sat on either side of her, each patting a shoulder and staring ahead blankly, not listening to Mr. Schuester's consolation speech.

Was anyone listening to Mr. Schue? Tina actually tried to. He was making a bunch of excuses for them. It was their first year as a team, they'd gotten a late start, most of the other teams had been practicing together a long time. They were all sophomores and the teams that came in first and second had mostly seniors. It was all a bunch of bullshit. But then, what was he going to say? "We totally would have won if not for one _Tina Cohen-Chang_"? No, he was too nice. Thank God he was so nice; if he had been honest, Tina didn't know how she could have possibly handled it. Even though it was the truth, hearing it out loud would have made it a million times worse. Which was why she was dreading being alone with Rachel.

"So just put it out of your minds and enjoy the rest of your weekend," Mr. Schue said in conclusion. "And on Wednesday we'll start getting ready for next year."


	9. AWKWARD!

**A/N The name of the OHIO glee club has changed since Chapter 8 was published on June 16.**

**December 1, 2010**

Calculus was Tina's last class of the day—and her favorite. There were only six kids in the class, counting her; she was the only girl. And the best one. Not that she would say that to anyone, but then, she didn't have to. It was obvious.

She liked her teacher, Mr. Jackson, a lot. In the spring she was going to be his aid. Sometimes she hung out for a while after class and they talked, mostly about math stuff. The other kids in her class liked math okay, and Tina sometimes worked on homework or studied with some of them, but none of them really liked to talk about math just for fun.

Today, though, she didn't especially feel like talking about math—or anything in particular really. She was hanging around mainly because she wanted to avoid the first glee practice after losing sectionals. She was thinking she'd just skip it. True, there was a winter program coming up that the Osgoode Vibrations were slated to perform at. But the rest of the club could do it just fine without her—better, in fact.

Rachel had not yelled at her yet, but Tina was afraid she was just saving it up so she could do it in front of the whole glee club. Tina knew she was pissed even without any yelling. When Rachel hadn't been crying (and she cried _a lot_) she had been making a lot of comments about how "we" needed to practice more and "we" needed to work on our dance steps and "we" needed to really get serious about next year and not humiliate ourselves again. Also how "we" needed to really highlight "our" strongest vocalists, by which of course Rachel meant herself.

Tina didn't mind admitting that Rachel had an amazing voice. Maybe the best in the group, although Tina also thought Blaine and Kurt and Mercedes were amazing. But Rachel annoyed the hell out of Tina when she sang. Those _dramatic_ facial expressions she was always making, my God. And the way she was so in love with her own talent. It was disgusting.

She had to think of something to talk to Mr. Jackson about—they never talked about anything remotely personal—so she was asking about Miami University's math department. She hadn't actually given a lot of thought yet to where she wanted to go to college.

Blaine rushed past outside the classroom, on his was to practice, no doubt. Tina turned away from the door as soon as she spotted him, but it didn't help. A few seconds later he had doubled back and was in the classroom, saying, "Come on, Tina, we're late!"

"Oh, you go ahead, Blaine. Mr. Jackson was just telling me about a math professor he knows at Miami."

"That's okay, Tina," Mr. Jackson said. "I'll e-mail you Dr. Lawson's contact information. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

So that was it. She was going to glee practice after all. When she walked into the choir room she immediately located the empty seat farthest from Rachel and sat in it. Unfortunately, she failed to note Sam's location, not too far from Rachel. Blaine chose to sit next to Sam rather than next to her. Jesus Christ, why had she even come here?

Mr. Schuester skipped right over any further mention of the sectionals debacle and announced the songs they'd be performing at the winter program: "We Need a Little Christmas," "All I Want for Christmas Is You," "The First Noel," and "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." Tina had planned on keeping a low profile, but this was really too much. She raised her hand.

"Yes, Tina?"

"Mr. Schuester, those aren't winter songs; they're _Christmas_ songs. At least one of them is overtly religious."

"So?" Mercedes asked.

"So we're a public school, at least nominally." No one said anything. "Hello? Separation of church and state?"

"I think I'm the only Jew here," Rachel said. "Today is the first day of Hanukkah, as I'm sure no one else here even realizes—"

"I know what day it is," Tina said. She'd gotten a card from her grandfather.

"And I am fine with practicing Christmas songs during Hanukkah and performing Christmas songs for the school," Rachel concluded.

"It's irrelevant whether you're fine with it," Tina said. "This isn't about you. I'm not a Jew, as you know, and I'm not a Christian either. And I'm not fine with it. And what about the rest of the kids who have to listen to us?"

"Tina," Mr. Schuester said, "I sympathize with your objection. But I didn't come up with this set list, and I can't change it."

"Mr. Schue..."

"I'm sorry, Tina. If you feel strongly about it, I encourage you to write a letter to the school newspaper."

Pffft. The school newspaper, please. Everyone knew the _Ad Verbum_ came straight out of the office of Naomi Franck and was nothing but carefully crafted propaganda.

What else could she do? Tina spent most of practice trying to think of ways she could sabotage the performance—other than just with her crappy singing. Sing the wrong lyrics? Like instead of "Born is the king of Israel" something like "Born was maybe some guy or then again maybe not"? Okay, that was terrible. And she'd chicken out anyway. And even if she didn't, she probably wouldn't be able to be heard over the whole group. It wasn't like Mr. Schuester was going to give her a solo. Maybe she could wear a t-shirt with some kind of protest message on it. But she knew she'd probably chicken out of that too. She should probably just quit the glee club in protest.

Yeah, in protest.

**December 3, 2010**

Sam was sitting next to Santana on the bus back from a basketball game that OHIO had lost. Their basketball team was better than their soccer team—actually it had a lot of the same guys on it; they were just better at basketball than soccer—but it wasn't exactly great.

The cheerleaders were awesome, as usual. Even though they were probably tired because they'd cheered at a girls' basketball game earlier the same day.

Brittany looked tired. Or maybe she just liked sitting in Puck's lap with her head on his shoulder. What was she...oh yeah, that definitely wasn't just sleepiness. Max Monroe, the RC/basketball coach, threw a towel at their heads and told them to break it up. Brittany got off his lap, and Puck rested his hand on her knee. Every time Sam glanced over, it had crept up a little higher on her leg.

Santana was watching them too. "Brittany's such a slut," she muttered.

"What?" Sam asked, even though he had heard her.

"Nothing." She looked at Sam, studied his face. "You're not bad-looking. Your lips are huge, but they're kinda cute."

"Oh." Sam felt himself blush. "Thanks. You're not bad-looking either."

"No shit," Santana said. "You're not very good at flirting."

Was that what they were doing? If so, then no, he wasn't very good at it.

When they got back to the school, Brittany announced, "We still have an hour before in-room curfew." She grabbed Puck's hand and started walking toward the boys' dorm with him. Sam didn't really have anywhere to go—maybe he'd see if Blaine was around. But Santana took his hand, and he realized that apparently they were all going to his and Puck's room.

Sam was sent ahead to make sure the coast was clear before Puck brought the girls to the room. He checked the lounge, the first-floor hall, and the second-floor hall. A couple guys were around, but none who'd say anything. He listened at their RC's door and didn't hear anything, though that fact didn't actually convey any useful information. He stood outside his room and texted "GO" to Puck.

He was unlocking his door when he heard someone behind him. He jumped but then was relieved to see it was Blaine. "Oh hey, Sam. How was the basketball game?"

"Great. I mean, actually we lost, but..."

Santana and Brittany came rushing down the hall, followed by Puck. Sam held the door open for them. Puck pinched Brittany's butt as she went inside, and she sort of squealed or something. It was a very odd sound, actually.

"Oh!" Blaine said. "So, I take it Puck and Sofia broke up?"

"Yeah, it turns out they might not have been, like, officially going out."

"Oh. Well, if you want to come over...I was just going to the lobby for a soda, but..."

That sounded like a really great idea. He just wanted to tell Puck where he'd be—not that Puck would even notice he wasn't around, but it seemed rude to just disappear. He opened the door again, and there was Santana, standing there waiting. She took him by the arm. "What are you doing standing around in the hall when you have guests to entertain?" She pulled him into the room, and he tried to pull back.

But then he saw this kid named Adam, who lived in the room next door, going out into the hallway, so he let himself be pulled inside and he locked the door. Adam was a nice enough guy, and Sam didn't think he would _try_ to get him and Puck busted for sneaking girls in. It's just that he _could not_ keep a secret. Sam thought he had heard that Adam had some condition that was like autism but not exactly autism. That probably explained it, along with some of his other personality quirks.

"You are not leaving me alone with these two," Santana said.

"I could..." Sam was about to suggest that he could sneak her back out, but with Adam roaming around, it wasn't safe.

Puck pulled his lips away from Brittany's long enough to ask who wanted a beer. It turned out he had brought back a whole case from his family's garage after Thanksgiving. Brittany and Santana each said they wanted one. Puck removed four cans from the bottom drawer in his wardrobe and passed them around.

Sam was the last one to take a sip of his. It tasted terrible and he almost gagged. Everyone gave him a look. "Dude, warm beer," he said. He didn't add that it was the first time he had tasted any temperature beer.

"I know, man," Puck said. "But it's not like I could stick it in the lounge fridge."

"Just chug it," Santana advised him. She demonstrated, downing her whole can. Puck handed her another.

Sam followed suit. He was pretty sure it would make him spew: it was literally the worst thing he had ever tasted. He seemed to be the only one who felt that way, though; Puck and Brittany chugged theirs and each immediately started another. Maybe it was an acquired taste.

Sam's phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Blaine: "r u coming?"

"sorry :( im stuck here," he texted back.

"that sux"

Soon Puck and Brittany were making out hard. Sam saw Puck pull her bra out through her sleeve; then he looked away. Santana was still watching; she kept watching until they climbed up onto the top bunk. "Uh, we should probably leave," Sam said to Santana.

Santana pushed him onto the bottom bunk and then sat down next to him. "I'm not leaving without Brittany."

Sam texted "AWKWARD!" to Blaine. He stared at the phone for a while but didn't get a return text.

Meanwhile, it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the giggles and the whispering above them. But it was even worse when those noises stopped and the bed started moving. "Can't you put some music on or something?" Santana whispered to him.

"Yeah. Good idea." He looked through his phone for something appropriate. What the hell was an appropriate song for a time like this?

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Santana said as he pushed him onto his back.

"What are you—"

Santana lay on top of him and covered his mouth with hers.

Sam was having trouble processing what was going on. It was probably partially because of the beer he'd chugged, but it was mostly because...holy shit. Santana was amazingly hot, especially in her cheerleader uniform. She wasn't in it now—the cheerleaders had changed after the game, as had the players—but he'd stolen several glances at her jumping and bouncing in it earlier. Not just her, all the cheerleaders. Well, all the girl cheerleaders. Anyway, if someone had asked him at the time, "Would you like to mess around with Santana?" he wouldn't have hesitated for a second.

Which was not to say he was actually hesitating now, at least not physically. His brain was confused and trying to catch up, but his body was eager. He wiggled under her and matched the force of her kiss. Holy fuck, she was wiggling against him too. He ran his hands up under her skirt and pulled her closer to him.

He had pretty much forgotten about Puck and Brittany...until Brittany started moaning. Santana noticed too, he could tell, because she stopped kissing him and sat up so she was straddling his crotch. Jesus, that was the best thing yet. And then when she took her top off and brought his hands up to cover the cups of her bra...Fuck! Was he groping too hard? He was probably groping too hard. Her tits were just so, so...Would she let him slide a hand under the cup? She did! Santana let out a gasp and Sam let out a moan. Holy Christ, he was _touching_ her _nipple_.

There was more moaning, and Sam wasn't sure if it was Santana or the couple above them or maybe even himself. Then there was...music...coming through the wall.

Santana rubbed herself against him. They were both fully dressed from the waist down, but he couldn't have not reacted to that if he'd been wearing a suit of armor. He rolled them over so he was on top of her and between her legs. She wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed his ass.

Sam was just trying to kiss her, he didn't realize he was thrusting. Okay, he sort of realized, but he didn't start doing it intentionally. But then it just felt _so fucking good_ how could he stop? He had to stop, though, he had to stop before it was...before it was...oh fuck it was too late...

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, squeezing Santana's shoulders as he ground into her and shuddered against her. The release felt...so...fucking amazing. When he was done he dropped his head on her shoulder. He became aware that the wet stickiness in his pants was a rather unpleasant sensation. Also that he would have to open his eyes and look at Santana again at some point.

He heard her before he saw her. "Really, Flash?" she said. She pushed him off her and got off the bed. "Brittany, I'm getting cleaned up and then we're going." She put her top back on, went into the bathroom, and slammed the door.

Brittany and Puck had been quiet for a few minutes, he now realized. Now there was movement and sound again, but it didn't sound like sexy noises. He guessed they were getting-dressed noises. The music from Blaine's room was, if anything, even louder.

Sam sat up and covered his lap with his blanket. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Fuck. Fuck! How many people was Santana going to tell about this? Brittany for sure. Puck. Of course, they might already know.

Santana reemerged from the bathroom. She didn't look at Sam. "Puck, you gotta get us out of here. It's five to eleven." If you tried to get out of a dorm wing after eleven, the card readers wouldn't let you. You'd have to push the emergency bar and an alarm would go off. And of course the girls' cards wouldn't let them into or out of a boys' wing at any time.

Puck and Brittany jumped down off the top bunk and the three of them left without a word to or glance at Sam. For which he was grateful. As soon as they were gone he buried his wet jeans and underwear at the bottom of his laundry basket and changed into sleep pants. Not a clean pair though. After room checks he was just going to have to take a shower anyway.

**December 8, 2010**

"Okay, guys, we have one week before the Christmas...the winter program. Check your OHIOmail calendars because I've added a couple extra practices." Mr. Schuester looked around the room. "Rachel, where's Tina?"

"I have no idea, Mr. Schuester. I reminded her this morning that we have practice."

"She's not coming," Blaine said. "She...she's protesting the Christmas songs."

Blaine had tried to talk to Mr. Schue about the songs last week after practice. "Tina kind of has a point," he'd said. "Couldn't we replace at least one of the songs with a generic winter song? 'Winter Wonderland' maybe?" Blaine liked that song and thought it would go well with Tina's voice. But Mr. Schuester had said that he wasn't kidding when he told Tina the set list couldn't be changed: it had come directly from Roland Osgoode.

Mr. Schuester sighed. "All right. I'll e-mail her after practice. Okay. I think we're going to need the most practice on 'The First Noel,' so let's get started. Rachel, we're going to start out with you..."

After practice Blaine and Sam walked to the cafeteria with Jeff. Sam elbowed Blaine and gave him a look, like, _Say something to him._ "Your solo was really awesome," Blaine said. "I knew you were good, but I didn't realize before that your voice is so..."

"Angelic," Sam said. Blaine and Jeff both looked at him. "What?"

They got in line for the salad bar, and Santana and Brittany cut in front of them. Santana looked at Sam and said, "You don't mind, do you, Flash? You're not in a hurry or anything?" Santana had been calling Sam Flash and no one knew why—except, apparently, Brittany, who giggled whenever she said it. But it had started after that night, the night there had been those disturbing noises and Sam had texted the word "AWKWARD" to him (although Blaine had been in the shower didn't see the text until later), so... it was probably better not to ask. Especially given the look Sam got on his face every time he heard it.

It was Wednesday, so the salad vegetables were pretty much on their last day of being edible; the cafeteria only put out fresh ones once a week. Blaine took some tomato wedges—the tomatoes were never really ripe to begin with, so the extra couple days didn't make much difference—and some baby carrots and some olives and an apple and an orange. The fruit wasn't too bad, except the bananas. The bananas _had _actually been replenished; the ones that were out tonight were bright green. Blaine couldn't believe that Sam took one.

Then he thought Sam was probably going to take it back to his room to let it ripen. They weren't allowed to take cafeteria food to the dorms, but it was a commonly flouted and largely unenforced rule. But no, as soon as they found a table and sat down, Sam started peeling it. "Sam, please tell me you're not going to eat that," Blaine said.

"Dude. I've been hungry for a banana all day. Since yesterday, in fact, when all they had were those slimy brown ones."

"Why don't you go across the street and buy one?" Jeff asked. OHIO was on the edge of town, kind of in the middle of nowhere, but there was a supermarket across the street, plus a drug store and a pizza place with dubious standards of cleanliness.

"Fuck that," Sam said. "I'm going for it." He got the peel off and broke a piece off the top, which caused a crunching noise. "Holy shit, did you hear that?" Undeterred, he took a bite. "It's like a damn apple." He persevered and ate the whole thing, probably just out of stubbornness. Then he pushed his tray away and held his stomach.

"Are you gonna be all right, Sam?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah. But actually..." he stood up and grabbed his tray, "I think I'm going to go back to my room and lay down for a while."

Jeff stood up too. "I could walk you back if you want."

"Dude, I can totally walk back to the dorm. I'm not gonna die from a green banana. Stay here with Blaine and finish eating." Sam winked at Blaine and walked away.

Jeff sat down again. He looked at Blaine for a second before redirecting his attention to his bowl of chili. He blew on a spoonful of it and brought it to his mouth.

"So you and Sam are in the same English class, right? Did he ever learn that section of Whitman? The one about containing multitudes?"

Out came the chili. "Sorry! Sam just...yeah, he learned that section, and he made a joke about it afterwards. It was funny but, uh, kind of inappropriate."

"Oh yeah, I think I heard it." Why, why did Blaine have to bring _that_ up?

"That poem." Jeff shook his head. "Is he gay?"

"That or bi," Blaine said. What a weird question. Everyone knew Walt Whitman was at least bi.


	10. Fucking Ridiculous

**January 5, 2011**

Sam and Tina were riding back to OHIO with Blaine and his dad. As a college professor with a winter break that went until Martin Luther King Day, he was the only one of their parents who didn't have to work that particular Wednesday that the kids were expected to go back to Lima. Tina was the last one to get picked up; she looked cute with some new blue streaks in her hair. Blaine had been riding in the back with Sam, but when they got to Tina's house, his dad made him move to the front seat.

As the four of them set out, Blaine's dad asked how everyone's Christmas had been.

"Awesome!" Sam said. "My brother and sister still get super excited about Santa. And we all got new cross country skis so we spent most of the day skiing. Cuyahoga Valley is so beautiful after a good snowfall."

"I didn't even know it was open in the winter," Blaine said.

"Dude!" Sam laughed. "Of course it's open. What the...You gotta come visit some weekend. Like that long weekend we get in February. Come visit then."

Blaine looked at his father, who said, "That can probably be arranged." He glanced in the rearview mirror and asked, "What about you, Tina? How was your Christmas?"

"Tina doesn't celebrate Christmas," Blaine said.

"Yeah, what is up with that?" Sam asked her.

"I just don't personally believe in Christmas—"

"So, you don't want anyone else to either?"

"Like I was about to say, I don't personally believe in Christmas, but I didn't want to ruin it for my family or anything, so I went along with everything. And I mean, it was nice, I guess. My family isn't super religious anyway."

"Oh," Sam said. "Well, it's nice you didn't ruin Santa Claus for your little brother."

"He's not really little. He's twelve." Tina tried to remember when he'd figured the Santa thing out. She's figured it out when she was five, and her cousins were still kind of mad at her for telling them. Jared was seven at the time, so Tina really thought he should have already known. But she was pretty sure she hadn't said anything to Charlie. He would have only been two.

"So what does that mean when you say you don't believe in Christmas?" Blaine's dad asked. He had a way of asking that kind of question that made you feel like he was actually interested in your answer, not like he was implying it was a stupid thing to believe in the first place.

So Tina tried to answer. "It's not Christmas specifically. Well, except the whole virgin birth thing, which is obviously really implausible..."

"That's why it's a miracle," Sam said. _Duh._ "If virgin births happened all the time you wouldn't start a whole new religion because of one."

Tina ignored the interruption. "The whole Bible is just...Well, I mean, why do people even believe it's true? Just because it's written? There's lots of stuff that's written that people don't believe. Like if you're Jewish you believe the first half of the Bible is true but not the second. And it's not like most Jews—not the ones I know, anyway—have, like, read both and evaluated them and decided that the Old Testament is totally plausible but not the new one. And the same with Christians. It's not like they go, 'Okay, the Old Testament totally makes sense, and so does the New Testament. This Koran, though, _that's _the only one that's obviously made up.' They just believe—most people, I mean—whatever religion their parents happen to have taught them."

She wouldn't have probably gone on that long, but the whole time she was talking, Mr. Anderson was nodding along like he was really listening and taking her seriously. He said, "I saw that OHIO is offering an elective next year on comparative religion. I think you might find it interesting." Tina nodded. She probably would.

Blaine was thinking of taking it too, if he could fit it into his schedule. They really only got to pick two elective this year: art, music, or dance and French, Spanish, German, or Latin. And which math class, but that wasn't exactly an option; it was just based on what level you'd already finished. But next year there would be more options. Blaine wasn't as strident as Tina was becoming, but he did tend to agree with her views on religion.

Sam did not agree with Tina. He was happy believing what his parents and his church had taught him, thank you very much. Not, maybe, _everything_ in the Bible. He didn't belong to one of those weird creationist churches or anything, or a weird anti-gay one. Obviously, since Blaine was his best friend and he didn't have a problem with him being gay.

It was kind of...interesting...in fact. Like, Sam knew there were probably some gay kids at his old school, but he didn't know of any who were out. It was kind of awesome that the gay kids at OHIO didn't have to hide. And if it made anyone else uncomfortable...like, okay, it may have made Sam a teensy bit uncomfortable that first time that Blaine said "I'm gay" just out of nowhere.

But then he thought, _Okay, cool, you should have a boyfriend._ And he thought of Jeff, who...you know, he imagined that Jeff would be the kind of dude who other gay dudes could be into. Not that he looked girly, exactly...well, maybe a tiny bit, although, actually, girly wasn't probably what gay dudes were into. Right? Then they'd just be into girls. So Sam wasn't sure what it was about Jeff that made him think Blaine would like him. It was probably his hair. Sam thought that someone like Blaine would probably find that cute. And Blaine and Jeff would look so cute together. And, you know, he wanted Blaine to be happy, obviously.

None of this actually made much sense, the more Sam thought about it. He should probably just tune back into the conversation in the car. Especially since Tina had just asked him something. "Sorry, what?" he said.

"Did your brother and sister go cross-country skiing with you? Do they make skis for kids that young?"

"Yeah, sure. We go together all the time." He started telling her about some of the better trails, mostly ones that not too many people knew about, the kinds of animals you could see there in the winter, how to go winter camping if you felt like it.

It was a very odd experience for Blaine, because they weren't talking to him. He had pretty much been the sole point of connection between Tina and Sam, and now they were having a conversation without him. And he was right there—it wasn't like they were stranded alone somewhere and had no one else to talk to. He couldn't even very well jump into the conversation because they were speaking softly and he couldn't hear all of it: just enough to know the general topics. They started talking about skiing and then a bunch of nature stuff and then about whether they planned to take biology next year (it sounded like they both did) and then some stuff about the school administration and Naomi Franck and Roland Osgoode. Tina really hated them both, but especially Roland Osgoode. He was annoying, for sure, but Blaine wasn't sure he _hated_ him. Anyway, Tina could and did go on about what an asshole he was for a long time. Blaine was just a little glad that he didn't have to listen to that again.

**January 7, 2011**

"This is fucking ridiculous," Tina said, poking some limp cucumber slices. The cafeteria had not served a single vegetarian entree since...well, since some time before winter break.

"We have a fresh salad bar at every lunch and dinner," the cafeteria manager kept telling her every single time Tina went to talk to her. _Fresh, my ass, _Tina wished she had told her out loud. It was Friday night, so the vegetables were totally inedible. You'd think that since the school hadn't even been open Monday and Tuesday, the salad bar would only be as bad as a usual Wednesday. But no such luck.

The only thing she could choke down at dinner was a dry, flavorless oatmeal raisin cookie. After dinner she ended up walking across the street to Ray's for some Fruity Pebbles and milk. She knew she'd be hungry later, and besides, she didn't think Blaine and Sam and Jeff wanted her hanging around with them. She really had to make some friends who were girls.

Sam took off right after dinner too. Scott, his RC, was driving him and Puck and Finn and a couple other guys to North Plaza, which was a crappy little strip mall a couple miles from OHIO. But it did have a movie theater, and they wanted to see _Tron: Legacy_. Sam would have invited Blaine and Jeff—there was enough room for two more people in the minivan—but he didn't think it would be their kind of movie. Maybe Blaine's, but almost certainly not Jeff's. And anyway, those two should get some time to hang out alone. Blaine was taking way too long to ask Jeff out.

"Going out" was kind of a weird thing at OHIO though. Going on actual dates was practically unheard of. There were no good places to go, for one thing. North Plaza had a coffee shop in addition to the movie theater, but nothing else good. And RCs would drive groups there sometimes, but not couples, so you'd have to walk. A handful of kids were sixteen now, but OHIO didn't teach drivers' ed, so none of them could drive. Even if they got licenses over the summer, they weren't allowed to have cars at school. There wasn't even a sidewalk for most of the way there, so it wasn't a really popular place to walk to at night in the winter.

Besides North Plaza, pretty much the only place within walking distance was the skeevy pizza place across the street, and no one hung out there except the burnouts. Well, OHIO's version of burnouts. They weren't exactly hard core.

So aside from engaging in PDA—or private DA, if they could find some privacy—the preferred activity of couples who were "going out" was walking around the school and talking. Literally around the school—there was a path on the outside that circled the building.

Totally platonic friends walked around the school too sometimes. The way you could tell if two people walking around were a couple or not was: if it was a straight guy and a straight girl and they were constantly walking with each other and not part of a group, they were probably going out. It would probably be a little more confusing with gay couples, because there weren't any yet, at least that Sam knew of. But then maybe there were lots and no one could tell because they just looked like friends.

The whole going out thing was such a nebulous concept here that Sam actually had no idea how you were supposed to ask someone to do it with you. Like, did you just come right out and ask them? Or did you just walk around the building with them a few times and then you'd both be like, _I guess we're going out now, wanna kiss?_ And since Sam didn't have any prospects at the moment—and he wasn't eager to look for any, since he still didn't know how many girls Santana had told about the disaster—he was counting on Blaine to figure it out with Jeff and then report back to him.

After Tina and Sam had left them, Blaine and Jeff did start walking around the building together. They didn't discuss it, and they certainly didn't discuss whether they were going out. They weren't. Not yet anyway. Jeff was really, really cute. Tall, Blaine liked that. Blond hair that kept adorably getting in his eyes, he liked that too. But he was so quiet and shy that Blaine didn't feel like he really knew him yet. He'd have to try to draw him out a bit. So as they started their first counterclockwise circle around the building by mutual, unspoken consent, he tried to do just that.

They had spent enough time hanging out together—usually with Sam around, and sometimes Tina too—that Blaine already knew the basics like where he was from and who his RC and roommate were. He tried out a few topics before finding two that Jeff enjoyed talking about: music and his family.

The two topics were related, actually, because Jeff and his brothers and sister had a band. He claimed they weren't that good, that they just messed around for fun. But if Jeff was as good a bass player as he was a singer, and if his siblings were half as talented as he was, Blaine knew they were good. Jeff's hometown was only about half an hour from Lima, so they still got to play together semi-regularly. In fact, they had a gig coming up at Ohio State Lima early next month. Blaine promised to be there, and he seriously couldn't wait.

Blaine was starting to really like Jeff. Maybe not quite like-like yet, but he could see wanting to hang out with him more. Maybe more like this, as in, not with Sam around all the time. Not that Sam wasn't awesome. He totally was. But when Sam was around, Jeff seemed to be more shy or something.

It actually kind of surprised Blaine when Jeff started asking about Sam. Not that he minded, especially if it would make him feel more comfortable around Sam. _If _he and Jeff were ever to be, like, a couple or something—not saying they would be—he'd want his best friend and his boyfriend to like each other. So he happily answered all Jeff's questions about Sam's family and his interests, and he even added some extra information that Jeff hadn't asked about, like about the amazing nature sketches he drew and how he knew the names of all the animals and plants and everything, and how Blaine was still a little worried about Sam's roommate maybe being a little—he didn't want to say a bad influence, exactly, but...well, fuck it, yes, he was probably a bad influence. He didn't tell Jeff about that night that Brittany and Santana had been over, but he did mention that he knew Puck sometimes had alcohol in the dorm.

It was getting close to seven o'clock. That was when everyone had to be in the lounge of their dorm wing for on-campus curfew check. If you signed out ahead of time—like for North Plaza or for a rehearsal or something—you didn't have to show up for the check. But Blaine and Jeff hadn't signed out, of course; they hadn't gone anywhere. Blaine was tempted to ask Jeff if he wanted to meet up again after checks, but he was afraid that would sound weird. So they just said good-night and each went to their own dorm.

Tina was a few minutes late for her dorm check. She hadn't signed out for her grocery store run because she didn't think it would take that long. But then she'd ended up picking up more than just cereal and milk. Fuck the cafeteria; she was going to start making her own meals using her wing's refrigerator and microwave. She bought an avocado and grated cheese and tortilla shells for—what would that be? Like, microwave quesadillas? Veggie burgers and buns. Some Amy's frozen meals. Also some stuff that wouldn't have to be refrigerated or microwaved, for eating after in-room curfew: M&Ms, Cocoa Puffs (totally good without milk), macadamia nuts, bread and peanut butter. Red Bull, which tasted horrible when warm but which she generally needed most after midnight. She hadn't really planned what she was going to buy, so she walked back and forth across the store and up and down some of the aisles multiple times. She probably still could have made it back in time, because Ray's was never very busy on Friday nights. But tonight there was only one checkout lane open, and the world's slowest old lady shopper was in front of her.

Lou was sometimes very laid-back and cool. If it had been one of those nights, she probably would have overlooked Tina's tardiness. But when she was in a bad mood she was a real hard-ass, and unfortunately it was one of _those_ nights. Not that anything in particular happened if you were a little late, but it did go into your record. Rumor had it that the only reason OHIO kept track of minor infractions was so if you ever did anything to really piss off the administration, they'd have ammunition to use against you. Tina didn't know of anyone who this had happened to yet, but that didn't make the rumor any less plausible in her opinion.

After enduring a mini-lecture about taking the rules seriously, blah blah blah, Tina put away her perishables in the wing fridge and fixed herself a bowl of cereal, which she took up to her room. Rachel was there, sitting in some sort of fucking yoga pose on the floor. She got up when Tina came in.

"Hi, Tina. I hope you didn't get in trouble for being late."

_You would probably laugh your ass off if I got in trouble_. "Not really."

"Good." Rachel eyed her cereal bowl. Well, the cereal bowl she was using, anyway—she had stolen it from the cafeteria.

"I know we have a room inspection Monday." _And I know you're already freaking out about it even though it's only fucking Friday. _"I'll get the dishes out of here by then." There were a few other cafeteria items lying around.

"Well," Rachel said. "I was just going to do some stretches..."

"That's cool. I'm going back downstairs." Tina grabbed her Osgoode laptop—they'd all been required to buy one from Osgoode Educational Enterprises at the beginning of the year—and her cereal bowl and cereal and returned to the lounge. She poured herself some more Fruity Pebbles and sat down at a table with a couple other girls from her wing, Pauline and Brooke. She didn't know them well, but she kind of liked them. Pauline was smart and funny, and Brooke liked to bitch about some of the same things Tina liked to bitch about.

Right now Brooke was bitching about the Osgoode laptops. "Did you know that the pornography filters they put on these things block legitimate sex education and medical websites?"

"Aw, what do you need to know, honey?" Pauline said. "See, there are birds, and there are bees, and, uh, I think they fuck each other at some point..."

"The sun is out," Tina added, "birds are singing, bees are trying to have sex with them. As is my understanding."

"You're a classic Simpsons fan?" Pauline asked her. When Tina nodded she said, "Cool."

"Seriously, though," Brooke said. "This is bullshit."

"It's fucking ridiculous," Tina agreed.

"We must not be the only people who find this disturbing," Pauline said.

Tina agreed. If there was anyone who didn't find it disturbing, it was probably because they didn't know. "We should start a blog or a fucking Facebook page or something."

**January 8, 2011**

Puck had brought another case of beer back from home. He was trying to convince Sam that they should sneak Brittany and Santana in again.

"No fucking way," Sam said.

"Come on, dude. Santana's hot."

"Totally hot. Too hot, sorta." He hesitated. Should he tell Puck what happened? It was totally humiliating...

"Dude, I know what happened," Puck said. Shit, had Sam said something out loud? He didn't think so. "Don't worry, man. It happens."

"Maybe. But you can see why I don't think Santana would want to make out with me again."

Puck put his arm around Sam in an older-brother way. "Okay man. It'll be just bros tonight. Do you mind if I invite Finn over?"

"No, Finn's cool. Mind if I ask Blaine?"

"If you don't think he'll get drunk and try to rape you."

"What the fuck, Puckerman?"

"Chill, dude, I'm joking. He totally thinks you're hot though."

"That's because I totally am."

Sam knew Finn wouldn't need any convincing to come over. He thought Blaine might, though. He didn't think Blaine drank even. Well, neither did Sam, except that one time. But Blaine agreed right away. He didn't come over right away, though—he probably needed the time to, like, make sure his hair and clothes were perfect first. It was weird, but in an endearing sort of way.

The second beer Sam ever drank tasted as bad as the first one had. He thought the chugging was maybe the problem last time, so this time he tried sipping. It didn't help; it was definitely the beer itself, not the speed at which one drank it. So he followed Puck's original advice and chugged, which at least got the unpleasantness over with quicker. He chugged four cans pretty much in a row. The fourth one did actually taste a little...not better, but less horrible. Either he was getting used to the taste or he was getting drunk.

Yeah...he was getting drunk. And it felt really, really good. He was worried that Blaine wasn't having as much fun as he was. Blaine was still sipping his first beer. "Dude!" He wrapped his arm around Blaine's shoulder. "You gotta drink faster than that. You are never going to get drunk at this rate."

"That's okay. I'm not sure I want to—"

"If you don't want to get drunk it's only because you never have before. It's fucking awesome. Puck! This is fucking awesome!"

"I know, right?"

"No, but I mean it's _fucking awesome. _Why didn't you tell me?"

Puck grabbed another beer and held it out to him. "Knock yourself out, man."

This struck Sam as extremely funny, and he doubled over laughing. "You all right, man?" Finn asked.

Sam repeated "Knock yourself out, man" through his laughing. It took a while to get it all out. He chugged the fifth beer that Puck held out for him, then he let out such a huge belch that it made him wobble a bit.

He moved unsteadily to the middle of the room. "Blaine! C'mere, dude! I wanna try something. Puck and Finn..." he couldn't think of the word _move_, so he made a shooing gesture with his hands. Puck and Finn sat on the lower bunk, and Blaine stood in front of him. Sam took Blaine's hands.

"Sam, what are you—"

"Shh. You're not drunk, right? And I...I'll tell you a little secret." He lowered his voice. "I am. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay. But—"

"So we're going to do a nex-perry-mitt...an eggs-purple-mint..." Sam had to pause again for a laughing break; he really cracked himself up. When he could talk again he said, "A test."

"What kind of experiment?" Puck asked. How the hell was he able to talk so clearly? Sam wasn't the only one who was drunk, was he?

"We're going to see which one of us has more fun spinning around in circles. My hypotenuse..." More laughing. "_Hypotenuse_!My hypotenuse is that _I _will have more fun spinning around in circles."

"My hypotenuse is that if you and Blaine spin around in circles, you're going to blow chunks on his nice sweater," Puck said.

Before Blaine could back away, Sam spun him around and around. It turned out that Sam's hypothesis was correct...and so was Puck's.

"I am so sorry, Blaine! Oh my fucking God, I am _so sorry_!" Sam took off his shirt and wiped his mouth off with it. Fuck, if there was anything that tasted worse than beer it was beer vomit. He went into the bathroom and rinsed his mouth out and brushed his teeth. When he came back out, Blaine had taken off his cardigan, but there was a little bit of puke on the shirt he'd been wearing under it. Sam tried to wipe it off with his own shirt, but since that was still messy from cleaning himself up, it only made Blaine's shirt worse. "Fuck! I'm sorry! I really, really, really—"

"No, Sam, it's all right. I'm fine. I'm just going to go change." Blaine pushed Sam's shirt away and left the room.

"Dude, what were you thinking?" Finn said. "Drinking and spinning do not go together."

"I don't know what the fuck I was thinking! Fuck! I threw up on my best friend! No offense, Puck. You're my best friend too. And you too Finn. I just mean my _best _best friend. Who I just fucking threw up on!"

Sam. Banged. His fucking. Head. Against. The fucking. Wall.

What. The fuck. Was he thinking?

Puck hopped up off the bed and grabbed Sam by the shoulders. "Okay, dude," he said, pulling him away from the wall. "Just calm down there, Evans. Blaine will be okay."

Sam dropped his head onto Puck's shoulder. "He must hate me."

"He doesn't hate you, bro."

"He does."

Sam stumbled out into the hall and knocked on Blaine's door. "Blaine! I'm sorry! Let me apologize!" Blaine didn't come to the door. Sam pressed his ear against it to listen. It sounded like the shower was running. He'd have to yell louder so Blaine would be able to hear him over the shower. "BLAINE! I'M SO SORRY I GOT DRUNK AND THREW UP ON YOU!" Blaine's door still didn't open, but a couple others did briefly: the one across the hall from Blaine's, the one on the other side of Sam and Puck's. Sam pressed his ear to the door again; he didn't hear the water running any more. "BLA-AINE! I'M SO DRUNK AND I DON'T FEEL GOOD AND I'M SO SORRY AND—"

Puck opened up the door, grabbed Sam, and pulled him back into the room. "What the fuck are you doing, dude? You can't just stand in the fucking hall and yell 'I'm drunk!'"

"Oh fuck, I'm such an idiot! What the fuck are we going to do?"

"Dudes!" Finn jumped up off the bed. "I'm sorry, but...I'm getting the fuck out of here." He ran out the door and down the hall toward his own wing.

"I'm sorry, Puck, I'm sorry I fucked up so bad."

Puck held his face so Sam would have to look at him. "Shut up. Shut up and stop crying. Clean up all the puke and then get into bed and act like you're asleep. I'll get rid of the beer cans."

"I'm crying?" Sam felt his cheeks. Shit, he _was _crying.

"Focus, dude!"

"Okay." Sam went into the bathroom for toilet paper. When he got back out, he saw Puck forcing the screen off their window. It looked like he had to bend the frame a little to get it out. He dropped the screen on the bed and started tossing beer cans out the window.

There was a knock at the door. Fuck. "Blaine?" Sam asked hopefully.

There was another knock, louder. "It's Scott and Aaron." Shit! Aaron was the head RC. "Open the door, Sam."

"Hold on just a second," Puck shouted. But Sam was already opening the door.

Puck was standing by the open window with a beer can in his hand when the walked in. Sam wasn't standing at all; he had fallen onto the floor and started sobbing. Jesus Christ, how did this happen? How could he be such a fuck up? Were they going to get kicked out of school? Holy shit, what were his parents going to say? Aaron helped Sam stand while Scott led Puck away from the window. "Come on into the office, guys," Aaron told them as they were led out.


	11. A Fucking Facebook Page or Something

**January 9, 2011**

Pauline and Tina had sneaked into Brooke's room shortly after room checks. Tina was a little nervous about it since she had to walk past Lou's room to get there. But screw it, let Lou yell at her and give her another demerit or whatever. Besides, that would only happen if she got caught, which, luckily, she didn't.

It was a little after two now, and thanks to lots of Red Bull and M&Ms and Ben & Jerry's—which Brooke had been genius enough to realize you could leave outside on the windowsill in the winter—their plan for a blog or a fucking Facebook page or something was really coming along.

They would do a blog _and _a Facebook page. The really inspired idea had come from Brooke's roommate, Ellen: a YouTube channel. The blog and the Facebook page would have the YouTube videos embedded, plus text and images.

Ellen had an idea for a video, and she started working on it right away. She wouldn't tell the others anything about the idea yet, but she had shown them a couple animated videos she done just for herself—they were like animated diaries, sort of—and they were incredible. Sweet and painful but, yet humorous, and the art was minimalist but so expressive at the same time. Tina was so in awe of it. She really, really didn't get how she could have ended up at a school with kids so talented.

While Ellen was busy at her desk, the other three wrote up a list of kids they would try to recruit to submit content. They tried to think of kids who wrote or drew well or maybe could do some photography stuff or something. That was a lot of kids, though, so the main criterion became: Who would be sympathetic to their cause _and_ able to keep a secret—because the whole thing would be anonymous, obviously.

They clearly couldn't use someone like Rachel who would get their panties all in a bunch about it. Or any of the kids who whored themselves out to write for the _Ad Verbum_. And any brown nosers were highly suspect, obviously.

Each of them wrote a list of people they thought they should ask. Tina wrote down Blaine first, because she couldn't imagine doing something like this without him. And then she wrote Sam, because Blaine probably wouldn't do it without _him_, and then Jeff, for the same reason. She thought Santana Lopez would be good—her biting sarcasm was painful when directed at a kid but would be awesome if directed at the administration. And of course Santana wouldn't do it without Brittany, so Tina added her to the list too. Pauline knew some kids who already drew web comics, including a girl who shared half of Tina's last name: Andrea Cohen. And Brooke knew a shit ton of malcontents.

Tina created a Yahoo! e-mail account with a fake name, Mandy Jasmine. And Mandy Jasmine sent out an e-mail to the list of kids they had come up with:

Dear Nogoodenik:

You have a bad attitude, and we admire that. Want to put that bad attitude to good use _and_ unleash your creativity at the same time? (And we do mean _unleash_. We want you to use your voice, not stifle it.) Come to a secret meeting Tuesday, January 11, right after dorm checks, in Dr. Hellman's classroom.

Discretion is absolutely essential! Do not share this e-mail with any brown nosers.

Discreetly yours,

Mandy Jasmine

(It's a pseudonym. If you don't know why you haven't been paying attention.)

XOXOXO

Blaine woke up around eight—really early for a Sunday. He was worried about Sam. So drunk and so sick. He should have stayed with him, or gone back after getting cleaned up. It was just so...well, so gross, obviously, what with having been thrown up on. That sweater was completely ruined; he'd thrown it away in the trash can in the bathroom, but he could still smell it. And besides the grossness it was just kind of...weird. Like when Sam held his hands, Blaine had actually thought for a second...well, it was absurd, of course, but he had thought for a second that Sam's experiment was going to be to kiss him or something.

How long did the other guys keep drinking, he wondered. Puck and Finn didn't seem drunk when Blaine left, but what if they hadn't gotten drunk later? Then they might not have noticed if Sam needed help.

He reached for his phone. Sam was probably still asleep—was hopefully still asleep—but Blaine wanted to text him, tell him to call or stop over as soon as he was awake so he'd know he was okay.

There was already a text waiting for him from Sam: "so so sorry b. puck & me r suspended 4 a week. c u b4 finals i guess."

XOXOXO

Sam was exhausted. After the emergency disciplinary hearing in the RC office—Dean Stone had even been called in from home at close to midnight on a Saturday—in which he and Puck had been suspended, Aaron had taken them back to their room just long enough to pack up some clothes and books and stuff. And then they had to wait for their parents in the RC office, which meant spending the night, since Dean Stone had told their parents they didn't have to drive to Lima in the middle of the night. It was very thoughtful, really. There was a couch in the office, and Sam had slept on it a little, but not much. Certainly not well. He didn't know if Puck had slept at all; they hadn't really spoken the entire time.

His mom was there to pick him up at nine a.m. Which meant she must have left the house around six a.m. And she had the kids with her, so she must have gotten them up around five. Maybe five thirty—it didn't look like their hair had been combed. Sam cried when they walked into the office to get him. Fuck, he couldn't believe how much Puck had seen him cry lately. He was such a fucking baby.

Stacey ran up to him and hugged him. "Are you okay, Sammy?"

"I'm fine, princess," he said, trying to stop crying. "I'm really tired though."

"Maybe you can sleep in the car," Stevie said. "That's what mom told us when she woke us up and we were still tired."

"Yeah, buddy? Did you sleep in the car?"

"Mom says yes, but I don't remember it."

His mom was signing him out and also signing some papers about the suspension. He'd already signed them last night. He couldn't bring himself to look at her or speak to her, and she didn't try to speak to him either, at least not until they got in the car. And then all she asked was whether he'd had breakfast. He hadn't, so they pulled over at the first McDonald's they saw for some drive-thru.

He ate his Egg McMuffin in silence. Even Stacey and Stevie were being pretty quiet—Sam didn't know how much their mom had told them, but they certainly seemed to know something weird was going on.

"I'm sorry, mom," he said finally. He still couldn't look at her.

"Sam, you could have been expelled! Did you even think of that?"

"No," he admitted.

"How many times have you...done this _without_ getting caught? What the hell were you thinking?" Sam's mom never swore, not even _hell_.

"I...never. Never before. I promise I won't do it again either. I'm so sorry." Shit, he was crying _again_.

"What were you thinking, Sammy?" His mom sounded like she might start crying too.

"I don't know. Puck told me to chug and so I chugged. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry I was so stupid."

"What does _chug_ mean?" Stevie asked from the backseat. "Sam, what did you do to make mom cry?" Because she _was_ crying now.

"It just means I did something dumb. I did what my friend told me to when I should have known better. Mom—"

Mrs. Evans had managed to stop crying. She held a hand up to stop Sam from saying any more. "We'll talk about this at home."

**January 11, 2011**

More people were showing up for the secret meeting than Tina had expected. It was actually really exciting! There were even some kids who Tina thought were way too cool to want to have anything to do with an idea of hers—though of course they didn't know before the meeting who Mandy Jasmine was.

Like there was this one kid named Cody Hart who Tina had always found very intimidating because he was such a genius _and_ kind of a badass _and _just very, very cool. He had been the first kid to get suspended from OHIO, back in October or November, Tina couldn't remember exactly. He had taken some cologne and used it to draw an outline of Zoidberg from _Futurama _in the carpet of one of the empty classrooms. And then he had set it on fire. It was good to know that the carpet was fire-resistant as long as it wasn't doused in something flammable. You could still see the burned Zoidberg drawing if you pushed away the desk they'd used to cover it up—it was really good!

Blaine and Jeff were there, which wouldn't have surprised Tina in the least, except that they both seemed pretty upset by the school's second and third suspensions, Sam and his roommate Puck. (Tina couldn't believe she hadn't thought to put Puck on their list of recruits—talk about a guy with a bad attitude!) Blaine had told her that he felt responsible for Sam getting in trouble because he'd been there drinking with them—and Finn, who also didn't get caught—and then left, and if he hadn't left Sam probably wouldn't have made so much noise and attracted attention. Tina tried to tell him that that was stupid; that even if his leaving had been the reason Sam made so much noise (which she didn't totally understand the connection between, but whatever), he wouldn't have had any way of predicting that. But Blaine didn't like being told he was being stupid, apparently.

Tina and Brooke and Pauline waited until about seven fifteen before getting the meeting started; some wings' checks took longer than others, especially if there were announcements or something. Somehow Tina ended up doing most of the talking, since Brooke and Pauline insisted the whole thing had been her idea. Which it kind of had been, although it would have been a really crappy idea if all of them hadn't worked on it.

Anyway, the more Tina talked about why they were pissed off and explained the blog/Facebook/YouTube plan, the more into it she got and the less nervous she was about talking in front of easily a couple dozen people. (Some of the people on the original invite list had brought friends.)

Not everyone who was there wanted to be part of the...the project, but no one seemed openly hostile to it. When Tina suggested they pick a couple people to be in charge, like the editors or something, the group chose her and Cody. Brooke or Pauline should have been picked, or both of them, but they weren't interested.

People volunteered for what they wanted to submit, and a deadline of February 4 was set for initial submissions—that would given everyone two full weeks after finals. They wanted to have a decent amount of content from the very beginning so it wouldn't be lame. Plus there was some concern that the school would manage to shut everything down, so they might as well shoot their whole wad right at the start.

The only left to do at this meeting was pick a name. After several suggestions, the one with the most enthusiastic support was Oz BAMF. Spelled out, it was Osbadde-Ass Motherfuckers.

**January 18, 2011**

OHIO wouldn't let Sam come back until he and his parents had a conference with Jennifer Stone. Finals started today, but the dean had refused to schedule the conference for the weekend or the "reading day" yesterday, which was Martin Luther King Day. Sam's first final was at ten; the conference was at eight, so they had to leave the house before five. Sam's Aunt Anne had to take Stevie and Stacey and get them off to school and stuff—so there was one person he'd fucked things up for.

Sam had been doing okay academically so far. The classes were a lot more difficult than he was used to, but he really had been working pretty hard to keep up. That was all kind of shot to hell by having to miss a whole week of classes. He wasn't allowed to make up any assignments he missed, for one thing. That is, he could do them—and he did, in fact, in hopes that doing so would help him be more prepared for finals—but his teachers weren't allowed to give him credit for them. Plus he really _wasn't_ prepared for finals now. He had studied pretty much all week—it's not like his parents would have let him do much else anyway—but he really didn't generally do all that well trying to learn stuff by reading it on his own. He sort of learned better by hearing information than by reading it, and he really needed someone he could talk to about stuff he didn't get right away. He would have called Blaine, but his parents had taken his phone for the week.

His ten a.m. geometry final today, especially—yeah, that was not going to go well.

At the conference he found out he would be on probation for the rest of the year. Another serious incident and he'd probably be expelled. He had to get at least Cs in all his classes—which he hadn't really been worried about until they'd suspended him.

Oh, and he'd be changing rooms. This wasn't part of the probation; it was something his parents wanted. He'd be moving in with Blaine, immediately. So that was one good thing, anyway.

XOXOXO

Blaine tried not to rush through his algebra II final. He knew he tended to make careless mistakes when he rushed, and the final counted for a quarter of his grade. But, damn it, he really wanted to see Sam as soon as possible. He knew that Sam's math final was scheduled for the exact same time as his own, and even if Blaine did finish early it wouldn't mean that Sam would too. Sam probably wouldn't finish early, in fact. Even knowing this, Blaine found it extremely difficult to take his time on the test.

He did finish early. Not super early; he wasn't the first one done or anything. He forced himself to check his work, even though he knew he was only checking perfunctorily, and then he dropped off his answer sheet and ran to the geometry room to wait outside for Sam.

Lots of other kids left the room before Sam did, none of whom Blaine wanted to talk to. Not even Jeff—although Jeff seemed to totally get what was going on, because he didn't try to talk about anything other than Sam. He asked Blaine if it was true that they were going to be roommates now and how Sam was doing. Unfortunately Blaine didn't know yet how he was doing. That's why he was waiting. Jeff said that he seemed nervous about the test and to tell Sam to call him if he needed anything. "Thanks, Jeff." Blaine patted him on the shoulder. "That's really thoughtful."

Sam was one of only about half a dozen kids still working on the final when the time was up at noon. Blaine could see that he was really upset. It sort of broke his heart, actually. So what if Sam had a few beers? He didn't deserve this at all. He had worked really hard all semester. This was such fucking bullshit.

Mr. Gregor, the geometry teacher, was talking to Sam. Blaine couldn't hear what he was saying, but it looked like he was being nice, sympathetic. He hoped he was saying something like, _If you didn't do well I'll totally let you take a make-up._ But that wasn't likely.

When Sam finally came out, Blaine immediately accosted him with a huge hug. He held onto him tightly and said, "I am so sorry."

"Dude, what are you sorry for?"

"For...for everything." Was Sam really not mad at him? He looked like he really wasn't mad, like he really didn't even know what Blaine was apologizing for. "For leaving you and—"

"It wouldn't have helped anyone for you to have gotten suspended too."

"But you might not have if I hadn't...Man, I'm glad you're back!"

Sam smiled a little. "Me too. And...I mean, I hope Puck won't be mad or anything, but it will be kind of cool being roomies."

"Totally! So, do you wanna go over now and move your stuff over?"

"My parents already moved it over this morning."

"Cool. Well, let's go get you settled in then!"


	12. Steve the Penguin the Iguana

**February 5, 2011**

Blaine had gotten a group of glee kids together to go see Jeff's band play at OSUL. Mr. Schuester was going to drive them, and they had about ten minutes until they had to meet in the lobby. Blaine was kind of freaking out because none of the clothes he tried on were right.

"Chill, dude. You look good." This from Sam, who looked amazing no matter what he wore. Like right now, he was just wearing the same faded jeans and green baseball shirt he'd been walking around in all day. He could wear the exact same jeans and t-shirt for a week straight and still look awesome.

"Some of us have to work hard just to look presentable," Blaine said, trying the black shirt with the red tie. Or would the red tie look better with a white shirt and a black cardigan? No, maybe the black shirt with the blue and yellow tie. Fuck.

"Okay. Blaine." Sam removed Blaine's tie and threw it on the bed. "The black shirt is fine by itself. This is really not an occasion that requires a tie. You don't want to overdo it on your first date."

"First date!? This is totally not a date. I probably won't even get a chance to talk to Jeff, since he'll be playing."

"All the more reason to calm down," Sam said before he literally pushed Blaine out the door.

Kurt Hummel, the only kid at OHIO who was actually from Lima, tried to warn everybody not to expect much of the "venue" for the show. He hadn't been to the particular building they were going to, but he told them that the OSUL campus in general was not the most...atmospheric. What no one knew until they reached their destination was that it was a windowless basement room in a classroom building. There was no stage—there weren't even any chairs. The audience was sitting on the floor on one side of the room while the band was setting up on the other.

The OHIO kids sat in the front "row." Blaine was in the middle, with Sam on his right and Tina on his left. Sam leaned over and said, "I was kinda picturing something a little more like the Black Squirrel Club."

"Wait, in Kent?" Blaine said. "I didn't know you'd been there."

"Dude, I played there a couple times last summer. This summer I might be able to play there more after I get my license. You guys should totally come see me. Or shit—we could start a band and play together!"

"Totally!" Blaine said.

Tina, of course, didn't play an instrument. But she didn't kid herself that Sam actually meant the suggestion for her anyway.

Meanwhile, Jeff and his siblings were standing in a huddle near where the instruments were set up. The guy who looked like the oldest brother—he was certainly the tallest—was yelling into his phone, and then they all started talking agitatedly. Jeff stood on his tip-toes to say something in his brother's ear and pointed toward the glee kids. Then he ran over to Finn and bent down to talk to him. Finn stood up and followed him back to the band's side of the room. The band huddled up again—with Finn this time—and after a few minutes they all walked to their instruments. Finn sat at the drum set, and the first row of the audience erupted in applause.

The oldest brother spoke into the microphone: "Hi, thanks for coming out, everyone! We're Sterling Silver, as you know. My name's Jeremy. We have my sister Jessica on keyboard, my baby brother Jeff on bass. My _ex_-brother Jed can't make it tonight, so please welcome my newly adopted brother, Finn Hudson, on drums." More cheering. "So, we're gonna start out with a song from our CD, which we conveniently have copies of for sale after the show, called 'Steve the Penguin the Iguana.'"

It was a cute song about a pet iguana—a pet girl iguana—named Steve the Penguin. It probably would have been a lot cuter if the drumming hadn't been a bit off. Of course, Finn had never even heard the song before, so no one could really blame him.

The band huddled together again after the first song. When they returned to their places, Jeremy announced their next song. "Now here's one I'm sure you all know: the theme song to _That 70s Show_!" And the rest of their set comprised covers of TV theme songs. It was kind of weird, but at least Finn knew them all.

After the show all the OHIO kids crowded around Jeff and Finn and congratulated them. "I'll never listen to the _Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_ song the same way again," Tina said.

"You should have gotten to sing more," Blaine said to Jeff. He had only sung back-up.

"Oh, well Jeremy's the lead singer."

"Dude, your voice is way better than his," Sam said before he looked around to make sure Jeremy wasn't listening.

Jeff looked at Sam and blushed. "I'm the only one in the band who's still a kid. They're not gonna let me sing lead."

"That's bullshit," Sam said. "You want me to talk to them for you?"

Jeff blushed even harder. "No. But thanks. It's really sweet of you to say."

**February 9, 2011**

Mr. Schuester liked to start glee practice on time, but today he didn't even try. They weren't particularly preparing for any upcoming events, and, more importantly, final grades for fall semester were going to be sent out any minute, and most of the kids were on their laptops obsessively refreshing their e-mail. The only two who weren't were Sam and Blaine.

Sam was too terrified. He had a really, really bad feeling about his geometry final. He'd had a pretty solid C-plus up until the week before finals. But then he'd gotten zeros for a week's worth of assignments. Tina had figured it out for him (and if he weren't such a mathematical idiot he would have been able to figure it out for himself), and he had to get at least 73 percent on the final to get a C for the class. It didn't sound like much, but it was better than he'd done on the midterm. And he hadn't felt nearly as unprepared for the midterm.

So if he was going to find out he was flunking out of school, he'd rather do it later, in the privacy of his own room.

The reason Blaine didn't check right away was he was trying to help Sam feel calmer and not think about grades. So while everyone else was refreshing and refreshing, he kept up a steady chatter about...whatever, he didn't even know. It didn't matter.

They knew grades were out when there was a mixture of swearing and crying and sighing in relief in the room. And lots of hugging, both in congratulations and in comfort.

Tina was one who sighed in relief. She had been worried about art and English, but she got Bs in both. Not that Bs were actually good—the only time before this that she had ever been _happy _about a B was in a science class in seventh grade. It was a work-at-your-own-pace class, and the grade reflected pretty much nothing but how much of the book you managed to get through. She'd spent most of the semester fucking around and had really only started working a couple weeks before the class was over when she realized she was actually in danger of getting a C, which would have kept her off the honor roll. This time _two_ Cs had been a real possibility—and not just because she'd been fucking around.

She noticed that Blaine hadn't even bothered checking his grades. It was kind of galling that someone who had to put in so little effort could be so confident of getting straight As that he didn't even have to look.

After practice, Tina told Blaine and Sam that she was skipping the cafeteria and eating in her dorm. Not that they cared.

Blaine and Sam skipped the cafeteria too. They'd eat something later, after they found out the hopefully good news about Sam's geometry grade.

The dorm rooms weren't big enough to allow much pacing, but Sam did the best he could. Three steps toward the window, turn, three steps toward the door, turn, start over. "Sam, you're driving me crazy," Blaine told him after he had repeated this about a dozen times. "Just check and get it over with."

"You check yours first."

"And then you'll check yours?"

"Okay."

Blaine opened his laptop and logged into his e-mail. He clicked on the link to his grades, looked at them, and closed the laptop. "Okay. Now you."

"Well? How'd you do?"

"I did fine." He'd gotten all As.

Sam kept pacing.

"Do you want me to look for you?" Blaine asked quietly.

"Yeah. Would you?"

Blaine didn't really want to, but he said he would. He reopened the laptop and held it out to Sam to log into his e-mail. Sam hesitated.

"You know what, Sam? Fuck it. Your grades will still be there in the morning. Let's go get some dinner."

"No. I just have to stop being such a fucking pussy." Sam sat at his desk, logged into his e-mail. Clicked the link. Closed his eyes. Opened one tentatively.

"Well?"

"Fuck." Sam slammed his head against the keyboard. "Fuck." Slam. "Fuck." Slam. "_Fuck_!" Slam, slam, _slam_!

"Sam..." Blaine took Sam's head, held it against his chest. "It's okay, Sam."

He looked at the screen. It wasn't okay.

Geometry: C-.

"Maybe a C-minus still counts as a C," Blaine said, although he didn't believe it.

"Jennifer Stone didn't say I have to get at least C-minuses. She said I have to get at least Cs." Sam moved his head away from Blaine but didn't attempt to slam it against anything again. But he did hurl the laptop against the wall and yell, "_FUUUCK_!"

Puck banged back on his side of the wall. Sam had been avoiding him since getting back. Puck still seemed pretty pissed at him. But now he didn't see that he had anything to lose. He banged on the wall with his fists and yelled, "Fuck you, Puckerman!"

A minute later Puck was banging on the door. Blaine tried to stop Sam from even opening it, but he couldn't.

"What the fuck is your problem, dude?" Puck yelled.

"I'm fucking tired of you acting like this was all my fault, asshole!"

"It _was _all your fucking fault!" Puck pushed one of Sam's shoulders.

"I'm not the one who brought a fucking case of beer into the dorm!" Sam pushed both of Puck's shoulders, causing him to stumble backward.

Blaine stood between them. "Okay, guys? The last thing either of you needs is to get busted for fighting."

Sam moved Blaine out of the way and pushed Puck again so he fell back against the door. "It doesn't make any fucking difference to me. I'm fucking out of here anyway."

Puck had been about to lunge at Sam, but he stopped. "What are you talking about, dude?"

Sam stood glaring at him, muscles tensed, fists clenched. Tears welling in his eyes.

Puck glanced at Blaine, who tried to explain, "He just looked at his grades..."

"Oh. Oh, shit, man." Puck held his arms out to his sides. "Go ahead, man. Fucking hit me."

Sam raised his fist. Puck closed his eyes but didn't move. Blaine said, "Sam, don't..." But Sam pulled his fist back and then snapped it forward with all his force right into the door next to Puck's head. He kicked the door too, for good measure.

Puck put his arm around Sam's shoulder and led him out the door. "Come on, bro. Come with me."

Blaine was left there looking around at an empty room, saying to himself, "What the fuck just happened?"

After nearly four hours of ignoring Blaine's calls and texts, ignoring Blaine's knocking on Puck's door—if that's where he'd been—Sam returned alone. Alone and shitfaced.

"God _damn_ it, Sam!" Blaine said, helping him onto the lower bunk.

"Oh what does it fucking matter now?" Sam slurred. "Might as well enjoy my last night here."

"Yeah. It looks like you're really having a blast." It looked like he was going to puke. Like perhaps he already had. "Besides, this might not even be your last night. _If _you don't get busted for drinking again." Blaine knelt on the floor in front of Sam and untied and removed his Chuck Taylors.

"Pshh. I'm done. I'm outta here. Face it." Sam fell back so his head was against the wall. "Take my socks off too, will ya?"

Blaine took his socks off and threw them at the laundry basket but missed. He shifted from kneeling to sitting on his butt, still holding a foot. Mostly absent-mindedly, he began stroking the arch. Sam made a low moaning noise, which turned into a crying noise when Blaine started to apply a little pressure. "Don't, Blaine. You're gonna make it too hard for me to leave."

Blaine let go and scrambled up onto the bed. "What are you talking about, Sam? I keep telling you, I don't even think you're going to have to leave."

"I will. I fucked myself. I've totally fucked myself." He lay on his side with his head in Blaine's lap. "Even if the C-minus wasn't bad enough I'm fucking drunk again. I'm such a fucking moron."

"No one has to know you're fucking drunk," Blaine said, patting his head. "Just go to sleep. As long as he sees you're here for room check Scott's not gonna wake you up. He's not gonna, like, smell your breath or anything."

"Really?"

"Really. Zach used to go to sleep before eleven a lot. I just had to let Scott come in far enough to see he was in bed."

Sam held his arms out. "Help me. I gotta take a piss before I go to sleep."

"Uh...I'll help you stand up. You're on your own with the pissing." Blaine pulled him off the bed and walked him toward the bathroom. He did leave him on his own in there, and Sam managed to urinate without any help. He even washed his face and brushed his teeth. He forgot to finish taking his pants off, though, and they were around his ankles when he came out. Blaine helped him out of them and helped him into bed. Into Blaine's bed, the lower bunk, because he didn't want Sam falling off the top bunk.

"Blaine?" Sam asked as he was being tucked in.

"Yeah?"

"This is gonna sound stupid, but if I can't ask when I'm all drunk and you're being all sweet, when can I ask?"

"Go ahead."

"Will you sing me to sleep?"

"Uh. Sure." Blaine sat next to Sam on the bed and tried to think of a non-lame lullaby. His mother used to sing him to sleep in Arabic, but he never learned any of the songs she sang him. There was one song his _dad_ sang to him at night sometimes. Kind of inappropriate for a little kid, now that he thought about it, but maybe not totally for your drunk roommate. It took a minute for him to remember how it went...Oh, right: "Scotch and soda, mud in your eye..." Sam was asleep before he got to the "Give me lovin', baby" part.


	13. Jennifer Stone's Office

**February 10, 2011**

Tina was having formatting problems with the Oz BAMF blog and she was getting pissed off. Her frustration probably had something to do with the fact that she'd slept only about seven hours the last three nights combined. And it was nearly three in the morning now and despite what felt like gallons and gallons of Red Bull, she was sort of losing it. But she had promised Cody and everyone else that she'd put the final touches on the blog tonight and send out e-mail announcements to all the students before breakfast today.

"Tina? Did you realize you're shaking?" This was Ellen. Tina was in her and Brooke's room again, where she'd done most of her Oz BAMF work. She couldn't do it around Rachel, obviously. Even if Rachel could be trusted, which she couldn't, she insisted on getting her full eight hours of beauty sleep. She even called it "my full eight hours of beauty sleep." One nice thing about hanging out in Ellen and Brooke's room was that they usually stayed up late like Tina, and if one of them did go to sleep, they didn't need it to be quiet or dark. Like right now, Brooke was asleep even though all the lights were on and Ellen and Tina weren't especially trying to be quiet.

Besides, Brooke had a contraband laptop—one she'd brought from home, one that wasn't Osgoode-issued. No one really knew how much the administration tracked what kids did on their Osgoode laptops, so she and Cody had agreed to take reasonable precautions. Cody had his own contraband laptop, which he used for uploading the videos. And Brooke had been very cool about letting Tina use hers.

"Tina?" Ellen asked again when Tina didn't respond to the comment about her shaking.

"I just...can't...get this to fucking line up right." Tina hated the whininess in her own voice. She was annoying the fuck out of herself. "It just won't fucking...it won't fucking..."

"I can take a look at it if you want," Ellen said. "Why don't you take a nap?"

"I have to get the e-mail sent out before five." There was that fucking whine again, she didn't know how to stop it.

"I'll wake you up as soon as I'm done. Or by four at the latest even if I'm not done."

"Uh. Uh, okay. I actually am super tired." Tina curled up on top of the rumpled sheets of Ellen's unmade bed. Falling asleep—she expected to be out immediately, but falling asleep actually hurt. It actually hurt, what the fuck...

"Tina? Tina?"

"Fuck!" Tina jerked awake. It took her a minute to realize who that was standing above her and what she was doing.

"The blog's all set," Ellen said, holding the laptop out to Tina. "The YouTube channel looks good and so does the Facebook page. You wanna look at 'em before you send the e-mail out?"

"No." Tina held her forehead. "No, if you say they're good, then..." If Ellen said they were good, then that was a much more reliable opinion than Tina's would be. But Tina couldn't formulate that thought into words, so she gave up. "I'll just..." She'd just send out the e-mail. Thank God she'd already set up another fake Yahoo! account (designed to appear at first glance—to the uncritical eye—to come from Naomi Franck) and written the announcement. All she had to do was click send.

She sat up cross-legged on the bed, pressed the button, and stared at the screen for a minute. It was done. As soon as kids started waking up and checking their e-mail... Some kids were up now; there were lights on in a few of the other dorm rooms she could see out Brooke and Ellen's window. They probably weren't _all_ checking their e-mail right at that moment, but maybe a couple of them would be.

She checked the blog, Facebook, and YouTube pages for comments. There weren't any yet. Of course there weren't, it had only been like three minutes. Tina knew that. Now it had been four minutes—shit, still nothing. She really should go back to her room and go to bed. She could still get some sleep. She just wanted to check one more time, first; maybe _someone_ had commented—

Ellen yawned. "Well. I guess I'll see you in the morning." Subtle. But yes, she was right. Tina was leaving.

Rachel woke up at five-thirty, as usual. Tina had long since learned to sleep through Rachel's morning regimen, but this morning she didn't. She'd only been half-sleeping, willing herself to wake when Rachel did, eager to hear how she would react to Oz BAMF.

Infuriatingly, Rachel did not check her e-mail right away. She went into the bathroom to spend like an hour in the shower and like another doing her hair and makeup. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but not by much. It did give Tina a chance to doze some more, but she was up again as soon as the bathroom door opened. Without moving, she watched as Rachel got dressed and packed up her books and laptop. "Aren't you going to check your e-mail?" she asked.

Rachel jumped and turned around. "I was trying not to wake you."

That was actually...nice. But Tina said, "That's all right. You can check it. If you want."

"No, I'm good. I'm leaving for breakfast so you can go back to sleep." Rachel walked out.

Damn it. Tina got out of bed and into the shower. If she wanted to see people's reactions, she guessed she'd have to go to breakfast in the cafeteria. She set the water to as cold as she could stand to help wake herself up. She wanted to get there quickly so she skipped shaving and putting makeup on. Her hair always took fucking forever, though, even if she didn't do anything to it except wash and part and comb it. It was a huge pain in the ass—one of these days she should just cut it all off.

In the cafeteria she got some greasy eggs and a slice of hard cantaloupe and a cup of black tea—she hated coffee, but she did wish she'd remembered to grab a Red Bull. She spotted Blaine and Jeff at a table together—without Sam, which she thought was weird—but she didn't join them. She didn't have any qualms about "intruding" on them, as she honestly didn't think Jeff was that into Blaine. It was just that if she wanted to hear kids' reactions to Oz BAMF, it would be kind of pointless to talk to people who had already known about it from the beginning—even if they hadn't contributed anything, which Tina was not even close to being done giving Blaine shit about.

Instead she sat at a table with a couple kids from her calculus class, Adam Bridgeman and Harold Lee, and Harold's girlfriend Cassie. "Hey Tina," Harold greeted her. "Did you finish the calc homework?"

"Uh, yeah." It was, like, the only homework she had finished last night.

"Would you mind helping me with it? I couldn't figure out—"

"What, now?"

"Before class maybe?"

"Yeah. Sure." Tina broke her eggs into small pieces with her fork and waited for _someone _to say something about Oz BAMF. Jesus, did no one check their e-mail? Fuck. Apparently not. She couldn't take it anymore. "Hey, did any of you guys see that e-mail from Jen..." Shit. The original idea had been to make it look like it came from Jennifer Stone before Cody had suggested Naomi Franck would be better. "...from Naomi Franck this morning?"

"I never read her e-mails," Harold said.

"Oh my God, Harold, you have to read it," Cassie said. "It's not really from her, I mean it can't be, and it's hilarious. The stuff it links to, I mean." Cassie pulled out her laptop and showed Harold and Adam the YouTube page first. Even Adam laughed, and that kid practically never laughed, at least not at stuff anyone else found humorous. In fact, if it had been _just_ Adam laughing, Tina would have been worried. But it was all three of them, and Tina looked around and saw kids at several other tables were also looking at stuff on their laptops and laughing. Tina leaned back and beamed.

English, her first class of the day, was even better. Blaine was annoyingly indifferent, but lots of other kids were talking about it and looking at the various pages—particularly a video parody of their English teacher, Dr. Hellman. Dr. Hellman had some distinctive mannerisms and catchphrases that lent themselves to parodying. When he entered the classroom, laptops snapped shut and kids tried to stop giggling.

He walked briskly to his desk, sat on it and crossed his legs primly, as he was wont to do. "Gentlemen and ladies." His standard greeting. "I was thinking of Walt Whitman this morning on my drive to school this morning..." They had finished their official Whitman unit ages ago, but that didn't stop Dr. Hellman from talking about him constantly. In fact he talked about pretty much anything that popped into his head; it wasn't unusual for him to spend the entire class period on a tangent. It looked like today might be one of those days. "...and then I heard about this new invention called YouTube. Has anyone here heard of it?"

They all said they had, but they were confused. Dr. Hellman was kind of technologically behind the times—he always needed a kid to set it up for him if he wanted to show a video or something—but he wasn't _that_ clueless.

"Wonderful! I won't have to explain that to you. David, would you set up the projector please? I found a Whitman-related video...although the relation to Whitman is a bit tangential in places...that you gentlemen and ladies might find enlightening." He signaled to David, who started the Oz BAMF video of a very prissy Dr. Mayonnaise relating an anecdote about Whitman that devolved into a bizarre rant about kumquats.

Tina watched Dr. Hellman's face carefully. He wasn't known for having a great sense of humor about himself. He was known for looking constipated when he was annoyed, and he didn't look constipated now—the animated Dr. Mayonnaise did, but the live-action Dr. Hellman didn't—so Tina took that as a good sign.

The classroom phone rang, which Tina didn't think she had ever heard happen before. "Oh, for the love of..." Dr. Hellman said. "David, pause the film, please." He picked up the phone. "Dr. Hellman's classroom...All right." He hung up and announced, "Miss Cohen-Chang, your presence is requested in Mrs. Stone's office."

Cody was already in the dean's office when Tina got there. It didn't surprise her that they'd been found out—there were way too many people in on the whole thing to really expect to keep it a secret—but it did surprise her a little bit how soon she'd been called in.

"Good morning, Tina." Dean Stone smiled at her. "I take it you know why I asked you and Cody here?"

"I think so."

"You think so? Are you two behind this O-Z-B-A-M-F?"

Tina acknowledged that she was, and Cody did likewise.

"I've spoken to the school's attorneys. The e-mail that was sent out, purportedly from Ms. Franck...are you aware that this is fraud?"

Tina looked at Cody, who didn't reply but didn't look particularly worried. Tina wanted to say that no, she didn't know it was fraud. Or protest that maybe it was _technically _fraud, but that surely everyone knew they didn't really expect anyone to believe it was from Naomi Franck. But Cody's approach of silence seemed to be working pretty well, so Tina went with that too.

"And some of the content," Dean Stone continued, "is very concerning as well. Specifically, the attorneys are considering legal action for slander against Dr. Hellman and Mr. Osgoode."

This threat was obviously meant to intimidate Tina and Cody. Cody continued not reacting visibly. For Tina, however, it had the effect of convincing her that all the talk about lawyers was a huge bluff. There probably weren't even any lawyers. That is, she was sure the school had lawyers, but they probably weren't even aware of the Oz BAMF scandal.

Tina actually knew a little bit about libel and slander, having recently written a paper about Larry Flynt for her history class. She didn't consider herself an expert by any means, but she did know the difference between the two terms, and she knew that—if anything—the Oz BAMF stuff about Dr. Hellman and Roland Osgood would be libel, not slander. And she knew that parody and satire were pretty hard to prove libelous and even if they weren't, the Hellman video and the Osgoode blog post hadn't even alleged anything defamatory or untrue. The blog post basically implied that the way he insisted on shit like the specific songs at the Christmas show was kind of weird, and that the administration's heaping of praise on him all the time was kind of annoying. All totally true. Also not stuff he could probably demonstrate damages for in court.

So Tina was pretty relaxed during the rest of the meeting, and Cody—well, that guy was perpetually relaxed. The whole thing turned out to be pretty cordial, actually. Dean Stone even said they could keep doing Oz BAMF—though they'd have to rename it. The administration knew what BAMF stood for, which, Tina had to admit, surprised her a little. They'd have to take it off the internet and put it on the school's secure intranet instead. This was kind of bullshit, but Tina and Cody didn't object too strenuously. They didn't actually want to cause the school any embarrassment that would put its state funding at risk. Well, Tina might have kind of wanted to, but she knew it would be a bad idea.

After they'd all agreed on these and a few other minor details, Dean Stone even kept them around a little while just to shoot the shit, even though they were totally missing class—first period was over and it was already well into second. She asked them about music—not OHIO-sponsored music programs, but music they liked to listen to, like, for fun—and whether they'd found anywhere fun to hang out in Lima. Tina actually found herself talking about Jeff's concert and OSUL a little. Cody said he wished he'd heard about it.

She and Cody were still smiling and joking around when Dean Stone told them they'd better get back to class. It made the somber expression of the student waiting outside her office all the more of a shock.

It was Sam. He looked seriously not good.

"Tina?" Sam was surprised to see her too. "What are you...?"

"Oz BAMF," she said. She could tell from his blank look that he didn't even know what she was talking about. "Didn't you see it?"

"I've been sorta preoccupied."

Dean Stone called Sam in, and Tina saw the panic on his face. "Good luck," she said. "Although I'm sure it's fine and you don't need it."

"Good morning, Sam," Dean Stone said as he sat down. "Do you know why I've asked you here?"

Sam didn't speak. He was reminding himself of everything Puck had told him this morning: Don't say anything you don't have to, and for God's sake don't volunteer anything. If they ask point-blank if you've had any more to drink, deny it. Deny it no matter what. Even if you _know_ they know, deny it. Make them prove it. It doesn't matter if they know if they can't prove it.

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know why I've asked you here?"

"Um..."

"Your C-minus in geometry?"

"Right."

"And you remember that a condition of your returning here after your suspension was that you get at least Cs in all your classes?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Are you all right, Sam?"

This struck Sam as an extremely stupid question, not to mention a cruel one. But he nodded.

"Mr. Gregor should be here soon," she said, looking at the clock. "I thought we should hear what he has to say."

Sam nodded again.

"How's your new room? Your new roommate? Blaine Anderson, right?"

Another nod.

"Your mother told me you were friends."

"Yes."

"I'll have to speak with at least one of your parents about this C-minus, of course. Oh, Mr. Gregor." She nodded at Sam's math teacher, who had just entered. "Thank you for coming."

Mr. Gregor sat in the chair next to Sam and patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you for inviting me. May I...?"

"Please," Dean Stone said.

"Sam's a good kid; he works very hard. I've seen his drawings and his paintings, and he's obviously extremely talented. Math is more of a challenge for him, but he takes it very seriously and has come to me for help when he's needed it. If it hadn't been for the unfortunate timing of...whatever lead to Sam's suspension—and I don't need to know what that was—but if it hadn't been for whatever happened happening right before finals, I have every confidence that Sam would have earned at least a C for the semester."

"_At least_ a C?"

"Quite likely a C-plus if I'd been allowed to let him make up the work he'd missed while he was gone."

"It's school policy not to allow that."

"I know that."

There was a brief silence while Dean Stone and Mr. Gregor looked at Sam, as if expecting him to say something.

When he didn't, Dean Stone spoke. "There is one option short of expulsion that I think we could consider. Of course, you would have to agree with it, Mr. Gregor, and Sam, you and your parents would too."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Obviously the same restrictions we already discussed would still apply. No more alcohol or any other serious disciplinary problems."

Sam nodded.

"Additionally, you would have to receive weekly tutoring in math. If you keep up with the weekly tutoring, and if all your grades for the _year_—that is, the average of your grades for first and second semester—are at least a C, then you can get off probation and be invited back for next year."

"So...I have to get at least a C-plus for the second semester of geometry?"

"You can do that, Sam," Mr. Gregor said. "I'm positive of it. Especially if you'll be getting weekly tutoring."

"And...I got an A in art, so like, even if I get an F for second semester, it still counts as a C average?"

Dean Stone looked extremely unamused. "I can see I'll have to be very clear and specific in the written document."

"I'm fully supportive of this proposal," Mr. Gregor said.

"Yeah, me too. Thank you."

"Would this be a good time to call your parents, Sam?"

"Um..." Sam looked at the clock. "They're both at work. Can I call them tonight and ask them to call you tomorrow?" He would much rather prepare them first without making them have to hear everything from Jennifer Stone. Luckily she accepted this proposal and he was free to go to his next class.


	14. Valentine's Day

**February 14, 2011**

"Happy Valentine's Day," Sam said, handing Tina a box of conversation hearts.

"Uh..."

"I mean, since you're stuck tutoring me in geometry on Valentine's Day, I thought the least I could do is get you some candy. Cause I appreciate it."

"Oh. Well...thanks." She set the box aside. Tina wasn't tutoring Sam as a favor—not that she probably wouldn't have if he'd asked her—but because she had to. Starting this semester all the kids had "jobs" at the school. Tina's was originally supposed to be as an aid to Mr. Jackson, but her duties had been broadened to helping out the math department in general—including tutoring. She kind of would have preferred working with Mr. Jackson, even if it was just making copies or something. But then, she was lucky not to have been assigned to the kitchen. They were having their first tutoring session in the cafeteria; dinner was over, but some of the kitchen-assigned kids were clearing dishes and cleaning the tables still. Those jobs looked way worse than Tina's.

"Aren't you going to have some?" Sam asked.

"No. I mean, thanks and everything. They're just not vegetarian. Do you, uh..."

Sam shrugged. "I'll take them back if you don't want them." He reached across the table for them, and Tina noticed that his knuckles looked terrible.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Oh." Sam made a loose fist and looked at it. "I punched a door." It had actually felt kind of cathartic when he hit the door instead of Puck that one time, so he'd done it a few more times since then.

Tina was totally fascinated with the bruises. She wanted to take Sam's hand and study them, but she didn't want him to think she was trying to flirt with him or something. Especially after that weird thing with the candy. She knew he didn't mean anything by that, but she didn't want him to think she had read something into it.

"Did it...did you feel better after you did it?" If you were filled with so much rage that hitting something hard enough to damage yourself seemed like a good outlet...did it help? Did it get some of the rage out? "I mean, not your hand. I assume that felt worse."

"A little." Sam was still looking at his hand.

"So, uh..." Tina flipped open Sam's geometry book. "I'm not sure how we should do this. Do you, like, have questions, or...?"

"I do, actually." Sam turned to the chapter his class was working on. "Okay, so this Intersecting Chord Theorem..."

XOXOXO

Blaine had barely been practicing on the piano since coming to OHIO. It was such a waste, really—the school had seven practice rooms with pianos: two in the school building, one in the boys' dorm, one in the girls' dorm, and three in the "co-ed" dorm. There were no co-ed wings (much less rooms), but there was one dorm that had two girls' wings, one boys' wing, and one wing that had studios and practice rooms instead of dorm rooms.

That's where Blaine was going to practice tonight, the co-ed dorm. Since it had the most pianos he had the greatest chance of finding one available and...okay, he happened to know that Jeff lived in the boys' wing of the co-ed dorm and used the practice rooms there frequently. One could even say regularly, like, every Monday at eight, and crap, it was ten to eight already. He grabbed some sheet music and hurried out of his room.

Damn it, the first practice room was already taken—the one Jeff would have to walk past on his way to and from any of the other practice rooms. Blaine's plan had been to keep his eyes glued to the tiny window in the door. When Jeff left his practice room, Blaine would abandon his own and just happen to bump into him in the hall.

It was a stupid plan, Blaine knew that. There was no reason he couldn't just call Jeff and ask if he'd like to hang out. But...he just couldn't, somehow. He felt weird and awkward every time he tried. And Sam had been on him for...practically the whole school year to _ask Jeff out _finally, it was getting ridiculous, and here it was Valentine's Day, and if Blaine didn't hurry the fuck up Jeff would start going out with someone else. A couple more guys had come out since fall—this guy David from Blaine's English class, this guy Nick from Sam's art class—and who knew how many more were still going to? So Blaine was going to have more and more competition the longer he waited. And Jeff was so ridiculously good-looking, how long could he possibly remain single?

But with the first practice room taken, maybe he should just forget it. He lingered in the hallway. Maybe he should just go ahead and practice anyway. He was here, he'd brought sheet music, it had been a while and he didn't want to get too rusty. Besides, there was still a pretty good chance he'd run into Jeff.

Just as Blaine was thinking this, who should walk down the hall with his bass slung over his shoulder? Blaine's first instinct was to run. Jeff had already seen him, though. "Blaine! Hey, I never see you over here!"

"The, uh, piano in my dorm is in use."

"I was just on my way to practice too. Hey, how long are you gonna be here? Can I talk to you when you're done?"

_Oh my God, Jeff wants to talk to me!? _"Yeah. Sure. Uh, half an hour?"

Jeff frowned slightly. "I usually practice for at least an hour..."

"Oh! Yeah, I could..."

"It's cool, though." Jeff lightly placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder. "So I'll see you back here at eight-thirty."

Blaine was determined to actually play something in his practice room rather than just sit around waiting. He hadn't really looked at what sheet music he was grabbing when he left his room, so he looked through it now. "Moonlight Sonata"? No. Rachmaninov? Definitely not. He had Chopin's funeral march in here, really? Okay, here we go. Scott Joplin.

Before he knew it, Jeff had opened the door to his practice room and was asking if he was ready. "You're really good," Jeff told him as he gathered up his stuff.

"Thanks. You too."

"You didn't hear me play."

"Well, not tonight, but I mean, at your show..."

"Yeah, because the _Gilligan's Island_ theme song has such a prominent bass part you could totally tell." Jeff smiled as he said this. He had a really pretty smile.

"Maybe not on _that_ one so much..."

They walked to the lobby. "So..." Jeff said, "do you wanna walk, or...? Or we could go to my room?"

"Um. Walking. Would be good, I think."

"All right. Let me just go get my coat." Jeff disappeared into his wing and left Blaine standing in the lobby, wishing he'd worn something warmer. It was a quick sprint from his dorm, so he'd just thrown on a sweater. It was a wool fisherman's sweater, but still, the temperature outside was probably in the teens. He was about to call and say never mind, they should just stay inside, but then Jeff was back, all bundled up and wearing a black hat that his blond bangs peeked out very cutely from under, and then they were walking toward the school.

Blaine was trying to think how to start when Jeff started talking instead. "So, there's been something I've wanted to ask you."

Blaine forced himself to take a breath. "Yes?"

"You and Sam...are you...?"

Blaine was surprised by the question or, well, it wasn't even really a question, was it? Just the introduction of a question. "Are we what? We're roommates now." But he was almost positive Jeff knew that already.

"Yeah. But are you, like...going out?"

"What!?" Blaine laughed. He didn't know where the idea about him and Sam came from, but Jeff's asking did seem like a good sign that he was interested. "No. No, of course not. Sam isn't even gay."

"But if he's not gay then he's bi."

Blaine tilted his head and looked at Jeff quizzically. "Why would you think that?"

Now it was Jeff who was taken aback. "_You_ told me that."

"_I _told you that!? No! I would never say that!"

Jeff stopped walking and just looked at Blaine. Blaine stopped walking too, of course, although the walking was the only thing keeping him even slightly warm. His hands, especially, were freezing. He couldn't even put them both in his pockets at the same time because he was still carrying that stupid sheet music. Hopefully once Jeff was convinced that he wasn't going out with Sam (!?) then Blaine could hold his hand. For warmth and...you know, for the sake of holding his hand.

Taking a quick look around, Jeff moved half a step closer. "Is he not out yet and you weren't supposed to say anything? Cause I won't tell anyone."

This was so weird. _And _beside the point, right? "I promise I'm not going out with Sam, or with anyone." Jeff looked...what would you call that look? Unsure? So Blaine took his hand.

Jeff pulled it back quickly and stepped away. "What are you doing?"

"I..." Shit, oh _shit_! "Sorry, I..." Holy shit! Jeff kept asking about Sam because he was interested in Sam. Like _interested_ in Sam. And now he was staring at Blaine like he was a fucking idiot. Which he totally was. "I'm really cold and I forgot my gloves. I think I'm gonna go inside."

"Okay." And Jeff turned to walk with him! Jesus, why couldn't he just leave Blaine alone after he'd made such an ass of himself? "So..." Oh God, he had more to say? What more could he have to say? "...if you're not going out with him, and you're trying to tell me now that he's straight..."

"Sam is definitely straight. Sorry."

"See, but since you told me before that he wasn't—and don't even claim that you didn't, because I remember—then either you _are _going out with him secretly, or you like him and don't want to see him with anyone else."

"That's fucking ridiculous."

Jeff stopped walking again. "Is it. All right. If you would've just told me you were going out with him I would've left him alone." He turned and walked toward his own dorm.

Blaine stood there, adrift, watching him go. He didn't know what to do. Like, he literally did not know what to do at that moment. He couldn't just stand there, he was freezing. He wanted to be alone, but he didn't. He wanted to cry on someone's shoulder. He wanted to cry on _Sam's_ shoulder. But now that seemed wildly inappropriate.

Tina. He would call Tina, of course. He walked toward her dorm as he called. "Hey, Tina! Whatcha doing?"

"Laundry," Tina said. All the machines in the girls' dorm were free for once, probably because a couple RCs had taken vanloads of couples to the mall. It was weird how many kids felt like they had to couple up. There was not a single guy at OHIO who Tina had the slightest interest in. Which was good, because none of them had the slightest interest in her, either.

"Mind if I come over and hang out while you do?"

"Yeah, cool. It seems like we haven't hung out in a while." Tina hoped Blaine wasn't going to bring Sam or Jeff. But then, if he was with Sam or Jeff, he probably wouldn't have bothered to call her at all.

Tina had clothes in all four washing machines. That was probably considered really bad etiquette. But then, usually it wasn't even a possibility, so maybe there was no etiquette rule about it. Blaine came in and sat on the floor of the laundry room next to her. The laundry rooms were considered common areas like the lobbies, so boys could get in girls' laundry rooms and vice-versa.

"What's up?" Tina asked him.

"Does something have to be up? Maybe I just felt like hanging out."

Tina wasn't buying it for a second. She didn't even reply.

"I, uh...I tried to hold Jeff's hand."

"Tried?"

"He doesn't like me at all." He put his head on her shoulder. When the idea had occurred to him that he wanted to cry on someone's shoulder, he meant it literally. And now he was doing just that.

Tina rubbed his back. "That sucks, Blaine. I'm sorry." She let him cry for a while. A long while. Longer than she would have expected. "Can I ask you something?"

Blaine was still crying, so he just nodded.

"Were you really that hung up on him? I mean I know you like him and he's cute, but...I mean, I thought Sam was really the one trying to set you guys up, and that only because you were both gay. I think he could have just as easily tried to set you up with Kurt."

Blaine thought about this and even stopped crying. Tina did have a point. Jeff didn't, like, consume his thoughts or anything. He was a nice guy...at least until he got all weird about Sam. He was a cute guy. Making out with him would have been super fun. But that was true of a lot of guys. Any of the now out gay guys would probably be fun to make out with, assuming they didn't have halitosis or something.

"I guess I wasn't, like, _in love_ with him or anything," Blaine admitted. "But it was so embarrassing. I tried to hold his hand and he yanked it away and he was all like..." Blaine made an exaggeratedly shocked and disgusted face.

Tina laughed. "I'm sure he didn't actually look like that."

"Maybe not exactly. He did say, 'What are you doing?' though."

"He was probably just surprised because even he could tell you weren't actually _that _into him."

"Well and he's not into me at all. I actually kinda thought he was, which is just so embarrassing and so stupid. But he's actually into..."

"Sam?" Tina guessed.

"You knew?"

"I keep telling you, I'm scary perceptive." Not that you had to be _that_ perceptive to notice that Jeff liked Sam.

"I think he's gonna, like, try and ask Sam out or something." This, Blaine was surprised to realize, was what bothered him the most. It shouldn't have bothered him in the least. Sam was straight, so he'd just say no, but he'd be nice about it because he wasn't a dick.

But what if he wasn't totally straight? Had he ever even said that he was, or had Blaine just assumed it? Jeff seemed really sure that he wasn't...although he claimed that Blaine had told him that, which made no sense at all. But anyway, what if Jeff was right somehow and Sam wasn't 100 percent straight and he actually went out with Jeff?

Yeah, that would really bother him a lot.


	15. OMFG, It's the GMC

**March 5, 2011**

Tina was so confused. Was she asleep? She definitely felt like she was supposed to be asleep. It couldn't be time to get up. It was the weekend, wasn't it? And the room was still dark. So then why was Rachel shaking her, and what the hell was that noise? Rachel was yelling at her, but there was another noise too.

Rachel's words were starting to make sense. "Get up! That's the fire alarm!"

That woke Tina up despite some pretty serious sleep deprivation over the last week. She got out of bed and started looking through the pile of crap on her desk for her phone. "Just leave it and come on!" Rachel yelled. She was right. OHIO had never put them through a fire drill in the dorms, and it wasn't likely that they'd decide to start in the middle of the night in the winter.

Tina didn't bring anything with her except the comforter she'd been wrapped up in. She was very glad to have it—it was below freezing out. She just wished she had some real shoes. The RCs were telling all the kids to gather by that hideous sculpture, Sweven, and the only way to get there was through the snow.

Aaron climbed onto the cement block that Sweven was perched on and told everyone to group up by wing and then stand next to their roommate. So Tina had to leave the conversation she was having with Brooke and Pauline and find Rachel instead.

When she spotted her, she noticed she was shivering. Worse, she was standing by herself, not even talking to anyone. Everyone was talking to someone, it seemed, except Rachel. Tina went to her and put half the comforter around her shoulders. "Thanks for waking me up," she said.

Rachel just nodded. Oh shit, she was crying. Rachel's crying usually made Tina want to slap her. Tonight, though, it kind of made her want to cry too. She didn't exactly have a hugging relationship with Rachel, but it seemed like the thing to do now, since they were already wrapped up in a blanket together. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I've never been in a fire before."

Okay, she thought Rachel was overreacting. She hadn't, like, narrowly escaped with her life or anything. But Tina repressed the urge to roll her eyes, even when Rachel wouldn't see, and tried to reassure her instead. "It can't be too bad a fire," she said. "Look." She waited until Rachel actually looked over at the dorm. "There are no flames. There isn't even any smoke. It's probably just a microwave popcorn incident or something."

"You're probably right," Rachel said. And eventually she even stopped crying.

After almost an hour of standing around—at least RCs from the other dorms brought blankets for kids who didn't have coats or anything—and watching fire fighters go into and out of the building with less and less urgency, they were told they could go back to their rooms. They were never told what had happened.

By lunchtime, though, the news was out. Two girls, April Wells and Olivia Carlin, had been smoking in the laundry room. One of them probably dropped a butt on some dryer lint—that seemed most likely, anyway. Obviously both girls were suspended, effective immediately.

**March 8, 2011**

It was the second and final meeting of Oz BAMF. That is, they could still have meetings after this if they wanted to, it just wouldn't be called Oz BAMF anymore.

There weren't as many people as at the first meeting, but there were a couple new ones. Sam was there; he had come with Blaine. Cody's roommate, Scott Hillman, was there. Scott was going out with April Wells; Tina should tell him she hoped April was all right. She hadn't realized before Sam got back from being suspended how much it could fuck things up for a person.

Coming up with a new, nonvulgar name was the group's first order of business. OHIOrgasm was rejected as likely to be rejected by the administration, as was Rule 34; even though no one thought they already knew what Rule 34 was, they had realized that even clueless school administrators knew how to use Google.

They played around with the idea of acronyms starting with O, with the idea that they would make them stand for something starting with OHIO or Osgoode. Like, OMFG could be OHIO's Most Famous Girls (and boys), or something similar but less lame. But again with the Google problem, Dean Stone would be able to figure out what it really stood for. Actually, she might already know that one. Pauline suggested a random, meaningless acronym to make all the administrators go crazy trying to figure out what it stood for. Even better, Cody said: a different random, meaningless acronym for every update. But they decided that was probably unworkable.

Brooke convinced everyone that the new name should be another pun on the word _bad_ but spelled _badde._ In fact, Another Badde Pun was a top contender, but it sounded lame if they tried to work the _Os-_ into it. The same with This Blog Is Badde and You Should Feel Badde, plus that one was just too unwieldy. Several members of the group were willing to leave out the _Os-_ for two favorite options: Honeybaddegers or Superbadde. Sam objected to Superbadde on the grounds that it would probably be considered an alcohol reference. But then, not everyone was willing to leave the _Os-_ out anyway. The pro-_Os_ faction's top two suggestions were Osbadde Apples or Osbadde Attitudes.

It was about to come to a three-way vote: Honeybaddegers, Osbadde Apples, or Osbadde Attitudes. The _Os- _fans, led by Brooke, realized that having two of their choices would split the vote and throw the election to Honeybaddegers, so they removed Osbadde Apples from the running. They had to hold a secret paper ballot because tensions were running so high. Osbadde Attitudes won by two votes.

After that decision was made, it was just logistical stuff: how often to update, who could update, that sort of thing. They couldn't use YouTube or Facebook anymore because they weren't secure. OHIOnet was pretty good, though, as far as being able to support lots of videos and so forth, so it wasn't that big a loss. Ellen and Andrea Cohen were in charge of uploading all videos; anyone who wanted to submit one had to send it to one of them. Tina and Cody would be the admins, but everyone at the meeting—and a couple people who couldn't make it today but had said they definitely wanted to be involved—would be able to post images and text.

Of course, nothing was able to go live until it had been approved by Dean Stone's office. This, everyone felt, was complete and utter bullshit. In fact, Tina and Cody agreed to write the first blog post together, addressing how much bullshit this was. But they couldn't use the word _bullshit_ because vulgarity would not be tolerated! Which was in itself bullshit.

They'd have to wait and see how much stuff actually got censored. If it was a lot, then they might have to go back to working outside the system and risk getting sued (not very likely) or suspended (not as unlikely). They thought they'd have a pretty good first amendment case, but it also sounded like an incredible pain in the ass. So if the censorship wasn't too bad, they'd just live with it.

After the meeting, most of the Osbadde Attitudes walked together to the cafeteria. Tina, Blaine, and Sam all ended up at a table with Ellen, Andrea, Cody, Scott, and Scott's friend Wes Montgomery.

"How's April doing?" Ellen asked Scott. "Have you talked to her?"

"Just once. She's... okay. Her parents are pretty pissed."

Sam nodded knowingly.

Brittany and Santana sat down, one on either side of Scott. They had already eaten, it looked like. They weren't actually involved with Osbadde Attitudes; they didn't show up to the first meeting in February, even though they had been invited. Not that Tina held it against them or anything.

"Were you guys talking about April?" Brittany asked.

Scott said that they were but he didn't really have any news.

"I don't get how she could be that stupid," Santana said. "Smoking? Like, if it was pot I could see the point. But cigarettes are just gross and disgusting and addictive, and if she wants to make it as a dancer—which she totally can, oh my God, have you guys seen her?—she can't go fucking up her lungs."

"Plus smoking makes you ugly and she's super hot," Brittany added.

Sam nodded, because April really was super hot. Of course, pretty much all the serious dance girls were super hot. Some of them weren't that much to look at above the shoulders (Tina would be so pissed if Sam said that out loud), but April was cute, even though she wore her hair shorter than all the other cheerleaders and never wore makeup except at performances. Maybe that was part of why she was cute, in fact. Sam wasn't a big fan of tons of makeup.

Take Tina for example. Sometimes she didn't wear any makeup at all, and she actually looked sort of cute then. Not that Sam was into her, but he could see how guys would be. But when she did wear makeup, it was usually very dramatic, with dark lipstick and heavy eye shadow and tons of black eyeliner. Not that that look was supposed to be cute—Sam got that. It was just an example.

Jeff—someone else who could have come to the meeting but chose not to, as Tina noticed but was not upset about—walked over to their table with a full tray and squeezed in between Sam and Brittany. "Flash, scoot over to make room for Jeffy," Santana said. Sam was so glad no one seemed very curious about that nickname anymore. He did scoot as far as he could, but Blaine, who was on his other side, seemed disinclined to move much.

"Hey, Jeff, you sing, don't you?" Wes asked.

Jeff had a mouthful of hamburger in his mouth, but he nodded.

"And you too, right, Blaine?"

"Yeah. Jeff and Sam and Tina and I and Santana and Brittany are all in glee."

Wes and Scott were in choir, and they were very good. Wes was sort of their Rachel, though probably way less annoying. (Tina was trying to look past her annoyingness more, though!)

"Well, Scott and I and some other guys are starting an a cappella group. You know, less formal than choir, but not as..." He looked around awkwardly.

"Not as what?" Santana asked.

"Not the same as glee. You guys should really join."

"Well, I'm too busy with glee and cheerleading," Santana said.

"Oh, that's okay," Wes said. "It's actually a guys-only kind of thing."

"Wow," Santana said, "that sounds really gay."

Wes laughed at that. "We actually are unofficially referring to ourselves as the gay men's chorus. At least until we figure out a real name. So, you guys wanna check it out?"

"That actually sounds like fun," Jeff said. He turned to Sam. "What do you think?"

"Sam's not gay," Blaine said.

Again, Wes laughed. "No, it's not an actual requirement. It's just that a lot of the guys who have joined so far are. Like half."

Jeff nudged Sam. "Come on. Check it out with me." He gave Sam a very cute—but also, Blaine now recognized, very sickening—smile. Then, dripping with insincerity, he added, "You too, Blaine."

"I don't know..." Sam said. "A cappella?"

"At least come listen to us. We're doing a couple songs at the next open mic night, the seventeenth."

The open mic nights were usually pretty fun anyway, so Sam agreed.

**March 17, 2011**

Sam woke up in Blaine's bed, the lower bunk. He was still in his clothes from the day before, on top of the covers, head at the foot of the bed. Apparently he'd fallen asleep while he and Blaine were sitting there together reading their history assignments last night. Or, you know, technically this morning.

Blaine came out of the bathroom in a towel and got dressed. Sam closed his eyes again. Not that they were especially shy around each other, but just lying in bed watching someone get dressed seemed a little creepy. Normally this would be when Sam would start getting ready himself, but he was too tired and not ready to get up yet.

When he opened his eyes, Blaine was dressed in yellow pants and a navy blue polo. Sam was _just_ now starting to get used to going to a school where yellow pants on a guy were considered normal. But it was not a good choice for today.

"Blaine, c'mere," he said. He should really just get up, but he was seriously tired. Blaine had been up at least as late as he had, but he managed to seem perky somehow. Damn him.

Blaine walked over to the bed. "What?"

"Is today Thursday?"

'Yeah."

"Is that what you're wearing?"

"Yeah. Why, is there something wrong with it?"

"No, nothing at all. Just this!" He lunged to pinch Blaine on the leg but miscalculated and got his butt.

"Sam! What the hell!"

"Dude, you're not wearing green!" Sam's head was now hanging off the edge of the bed, but he was laughing too hard to care or try to move.

"So you pinch my ass?"

"Sorry!" Sam was still laughing, so his apology probably didn't sound very sincere. "Sorry about where I got you, I mean, but you totally had the pinch coming for not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day."

"Jesus, seriously?" Blaine still kind of couldn't believe this was an actual thing. "Besides, I'm wearing yellow and blue. Combined that makes green."

"Thank you, Mr. Color Theory. But that doesn't count and you know it."

Who made up these rules? Wait a minute. Sam was wearing yesterday's jeans and gray t-shirt. Sam seemed to realize this at the same moment that Blaine did, because he tried to slide off the bed and Blaine had to tackle him on the floor. "Blaine, dude, you can't pinch me when I just woke up!"

"That doesn't matter and you know it," Blaine said, guessing this was probably the case. He could have easily pinched Sam's arm or side, but Sam had pinched his ass, and that was where he was determined to get him back. It took quite a bit of rolling around, but he was ultimately successful.

"Okay, okay, you got me, dude!" Sam rolled Blaine off him and got up. He held his hand out. "Aren't you gonna get up and put a green bowtie on or something?"

"Yeah, in a minute." Blaine had a rather unfortunate condition from the rolling around that he didn't want Sam to notice. He usually managed to keep his cool around Sam, especially since they'd become roommates, but it wasn't always easy. And if there was wrestling involved, forget it.

XOXOXO

Sam had invited Jeff to go with him and Blaine to the open mic thing in the auditorium, because he didn't know how messed up that was. Blaine had been trying to think of a tactful way to bring that up and so far hadn't.

All he'd told him was that he wasn't really interested in Jeff and Jeff wasn't interested in him. Sam seemed to mostly accept that, but he didn't really get that Blaine would rather not hang out with Jeff anymore. Blaine would have told him that much, no problem, except then what would he have done if Sam and Jeff wanted to hang out without him? Or if Sam wanted to anyway—he already knew that was what Jeff wanted. No, it was better if he was around to keep an eye on things.

Kurt was a member of the GMC, as Sam and Blaine had taken to calling the gay men's chorus. Sam didn't think it was weird, but Blaine was frankly a little offended that they had recruited Kurt before they recruited him. He thought his voice was at least as good as Kurt's.

The other guys were Wes and Scott, of course, David Thompson, Nick Duval, and three guys Blaine didn't know very well: Sean O'Halloran, Vic Santos, and Alan Tracy. "Which of those guys do you think is gay?" Jeff whispered to Sam before they started singing.

"What, you mean besides Kurt?"

"Wes said half of them are gay. So that's Kurt, Nick, David, and one of the other guys. Not Scott because he's going out with April."

"Okay, first of all," Blaine said, "I'm pretty sure he said that _about_ half of them are gay. Second, even if one of the other guys is, how do you think Sam would know which one it is?" He knew Jeff was implying that Sam had gaydar, and he wanted to force him to say it out loud in front of Sam.

"Some people just know."

"And _some _people are way off."

Sam was about to ask them what the hell they were arguing about, but the first performance was starting. It was Rachel, doing "You Were Meant for Me," with Puck accompanying her on the guitar. There were a couple tears at the end. Tina was right, it was kind of annoying how much she cried.

GMC went next. Sam thought they were good, but...well, the first song didn't do much for him. It was that "Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ral" lullaby, which Sam actually loved from when he was little. But these guys sang it nothing like his mom did and frankly sort of ruined it. Next they did a song Sam didn't know about a dirty old town. He would admit it was pretty good, but nothing he could get too enthused about.

Later, when Jeff asked him as they walked back to the dorms for checks if he was going to join, Sam said he didn't think so. "You should, though," he told Jeff. "They're really good. And you have the perfect voice for it. I just don't think I can spare the time from homework and shit."

Blaine wasn't bothered that Sam said Jeff had a perfect voice, not at all. He was relieved that Sam wasn't going to join, because now he didn't have to.

But then...they were actually so great! The way they did the harmonies and turned a supremely boring lullaby into something awesome! And "Dirty Old Town!" He never would have thought of doing a Pogues song a cappella, but it totally worked. He wondered if they could work out a way to do "Fairytale of New York." Maybe not without a girl...but then, Kurt could do Kirsty MacColl's part. He had a lot of ideas, really.


	16. Spring Break

**March 28, 2011**

Considering that he usually saw him every day, Sam was strangely excited that Blaine was coming over to his house. They'd kind of talked about Blaine visiting in February, but then after the whole suspension thing, Sam hadn't dared to ask his parents about it. But now it was spring break, and the idea of going a whole week without seeing Blaine just seemed weird. Luckily his parents weren't still mad and they said it was fine.

He was really looking forward to showing Blaine around the park. Blaine wasn't much of an outdoorsman, he knew that, but it wasn't like you had to go on a survivalist trek just to see some really cool shit. Blaine was due to arrive around ten o'clock. They'd have most of today, all day tomorrow, and until three on Wednesday when Blaine's dad was coming back to pick him up. Stacey and Stevie's school had spring break the week before, so they'd have the daytimes all to themselves.

The first thing Blaine wanted to do was unpack, which shouldn't have surprised Sam—he lived with the guy, after all—but still managed to somehow. He was only staying two nights! He hadn't thought to clear out a drawer for him or anything, so he quickly scooped out all his underwear and shoved them in one of the t-shirt drawers.

"Condoms?" Blaine asked, peering over his shoulder.

Shit, he'd forgotten those were there. "I shoplifted them last year in a fit of unrealistic optimism." He held the box out to show it was unopened.

"I'm shocked, Sam! Shocked! I _paid_ for mine when I had a fit of unrealistic optimism. And for lube too, which is even more embarrassing."

"Yeah, so like, stupid question time, but what exactly do you need lube for? And don't give me that look because you're the one who brought it up!"

Blaine's face was bright red. "It's a, uh...gay thing."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"Where can I put my hiking boots?"

Blaine was so funny. He had gone out and bought hiking boots.

XOXOXO

Tina woke up around noon. Sookie was looking expectantly at the back door, so she let her out and went to the bathroom herself. The dog was whining when she went back to check on her; she'd gotten her rope tangled around the clothesline pole again. "Sookie! You're so stupid!" Tina chastised her. But she did so in a baby voice that made Sookie wag her tail excitedly. She went out to get her, watching carefully where she stepped. She didn't have any shoes on and she didn't want to step in any dog crap. Untangling the rope from the pole seemed like a giant pain in the ass, so she just unclipped the rope from the dog's collar and carried her back into the house.

"Who's a stupid puppy?" she asked, rubbing Sookie's ears. "You're a stupid puppy! It's a good thing you're so freaking cute. We certainly don't keep you around for your brains." Tina took the dog into her bedroom, and they both slept for another hour and a half. The only two things Tina had planned for spring break were catching up on her sleep and catching up on her homework. And it was only Monday, so the homework could wait.

The one thing she wasn't looking forward to was dealing with Charlie. Sam's siblings had a different spring break from OHIO—why couldn't hers too?

She didn't hear him when she went upstairs for breakfast...or, lunch, she guessed. He must still be sleeping, because it was not like him to be considerate of anyone else. It was a little weird because he never slept this late, but then, neither did she until this year.

Tina poured herself a big bowl of Cap'n Crunch and grabbed a Coke. Her parents never usually kept junk food around the house, but when she had accompanied her mother to the grocery store yesterday, her mom bought everything she suggested. It was kind of awesome that her just being home was treated like some kind of special occasion.

Around three she finally opened Charlie's bedroom door to check on him—mainly because she thought if he had somehow died in his sleep and she didn't even notice, her parents would be really pissed.

He was gone, though. Usually they both spent their spring break hanging out at home, annoying the hell out of each other and fighting. If Charlie had developed an actual interest that got him out of the house, this might be an awesome spring break! She had been watching movies in her room on her Osgoode laptop, but now she could stretch out on the couch and watch them on the big TV. Not that they actually had a _big_ TV—her parents were very cheap when it came to electronics and entertainment and, well, lots of things—but at least it was considerably bigger than the laptop screen.

Even when he came home she didn't really have to deal with him. He smoked a cigarette outside, then came in and went straight to his room and shut the door. Best spring break ever!

Her mom called when she left work a little after five. If Tina wanted, she would pick up Charlie and her and they could meet their dad at The Crossing for dinner. That was a diner near campus, one of the few places that college students and locals all went to. Tina said sure and went to tell Charlie.

He didn't answer when she knocked on his door. She opened it slowly, hoping he wasn't changing or something. But then he would have said something, right? He wasn't changing, luckily; he was lying on his bed listening to his iPod. When he saw her he smiled and said, "Hey Tina, know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"So, you know the song 'Little Red Corvette'?"

"Yeah."

"It's a simile. The corvette is a chick!"

"Don't say _chick_; it's insulting. And I think you mean a metaphor."

"Whatever. I just, like, really listened to the song for the first time today. You know how you can hear something but not _really_ listen? I always just thought it was a song about an actual car."

"Hmm. I guess I never really listened to it either."

"You totally should."

"Yeah, okay," Tina said. "Anyway, mom's picking us up in like half an hour to go to The Crossing."

"Shit, I just got banned from there."

"How do you get banned from The Crossing? You didn't, like, dine and dash, did you?"

"No, me and my friends were skateboarding out front. It pisses Jimmy off." Jimmy was the owner. Tina didn't even know what his real name was; kids called him Jimmy because he was Greek. "It's cool, though. He won't kick me out if I'm there with the parental units."

"How do you know?"

"It's one thing for him to yell at us. Cause like, if we go inside at all we sit there for an hour and only order one cup of coffee. But adults bringing their family in for an actual meal? He's not gonna wanna alienate them. It's like he's an evil genius. Seriously, a fucking evil genius."

Jimmy seated them when they got there, and Charlie was totally right about him not saying anything in front of their mother. He did give him the stink eye a couple times, but only when no one but Tina and Charlie were watching. Their dad showed up a few minutes later, and after seating him, Jimmy left them alone for the rest of the night.

Charlie went to the "restroom" after they ordered, but he was actually going outside for a cigarette. He was so fucking stupid. Their dad had been trying to quit for years. Supposedly he had quit, in fact, but he sneaked off to smoke too. So you'd think Charlie would see that and think, _Gee, maybe starting to smoke isn't such a great idea if it's so hard to quit_. But, no, the lesson he apparently got from it was, _Dad can't say anything if I steal his cigarettes because then he'd have to admit he didn't really quit._

"Did I tell you guys about the fire in my dorm?" Tina asked when Charlie returned to the table.

"We got an e-mail from the school," her mom said. "It didn't sound serious."

"No, it wasn't. But two girls got suspended for _smoking_."

"For smoking or for starting a fire?" her dad asked.

"Well, I guess it was for the fire," Tina admitted. "It actually kinda does make sense, even though the fire was totally minor. More than when they suspended...these two kids for a week just for drinking beer. They didn't even hurt anyone."

"They were drinking beer on campus?" her mom said. When Tina nodded she said, "That's illegal."

"I know, but—"

"What do you think would happen if something happened to a student who was drinking on campus? If a fifteen-year-old died from alcohol poisoning while drinking on campus? Or slipped on some ice, hit his head, passed out, and froze to death while drunk?"

"I don't think that's very likely," Tina said.

"No, but it's possible. It would be in the news. Someone might investigate whether the school administration knew kids were drinking and looked the other way. Paul Gordon? The senator who pushed through the state funding for OHIO? Do you remember how hard he had to push to get the school off the ground?"

Tina nodded, although she really had no idea how that had played out in the state senate. She certainly knew the name, though; he was a huge friend of OHIO, as the administration reminded them frequently.

"Now imagine you're Paul Gordon. Your fellow Republicans are already extremely skeptical of giving so much money to an arts high school. They say to you, 'Paul, we know how much this school means to you, and you've done a lot of good work for us in the past, so we'd like to humor you on this. But we've been getting e-mails asking why we should be giving all this money to a school that kids are dying at, and the school isn't even trying to protect them.' How hard are you really going to keep pushing for it?"

"I guess," Tina conceded.

"Whatever you do, do not drink any beer there," Charlie said, shaking his finger at her and laughing.

"Don't worry." Just the smell of beer made Tina ill.

XOXOXO

"So, Blaine," Mr. Evans said, "like it here? Sam's a pretty good hiking guide, isn't he?"

"Dad! We just walked around and I pointed stuff out," Sam said. He spooned some rice onto his plate, then some onto Stevie's and Stacey's, and passed the dish to Blaine.

"Yeah, he's a great guide."

"Did he show you any good poop?" Stevie asked.

"Where do we not talk about poop?" Mrs. Evans asked.

Stevie counted on his fingers as he listed places. "Church and school—unless I have to go—and in public, and..."

"And?"

"The dinner table!" Stacey supplied.

"That's right," Sam said. "So you'll have to wait until after dinner to see my pictures." He actually had taken a couple. But he assured Blaine that they were only to amuse Stevie.

"I'm done!" Stevie said.

"Okay," Mrs. Evans said. "You can just sit here while the rest of us eat."

"Fine." Stevie sulked a minute, then went back to eating. "What else did you see, Blaine?"

"Uh. A couple bats." It was the lowlight of the excursion. He kind of couldn't get the images out of his head.

"In the daytime?" Sam's dad said. "Sam, you didn't take him into the caves, did you?" The caves were closed, specifically to protect the bats.

Sam shook his head. "Dead. I got some pictures, but as far as I could tell they were clean." There was this bat disease that no one wanted to see spread into Cuyahoga Valley. Sam had already sent the pictures to the head bat guy at the park.

Blaine skipped the after-dinner viewing of the poop pictures, preferring to help with the dishes. He was actually kind of glad Sam had taken the pictures though. It was just so gross. And it sort of reminded him that he and Sam were very different. Like, he had—without totally realizing it—been sort of idealizing Sam or something. If he was honest, he would admit he'd started crushing on him just a tiny bit.

Or maybe not such a tiny bit. He thought it was just a tiny bit when it first came to his attention, when he found out that Jeff liked Sam. But that had been over a month ago, and if anything, his feelings had gotten stronger.

So now he thought maybe, whenever he felt his interest in Sam becoming inappropriate, he could just remind himself that Sam was a guy who took pictures of dead bats and animal poop. Because reminding himself that Sam was straight had not been working that well.

Not that he'd ever gotten around to asking him about that. It would be a stupid question, though. Because really, if he weren't, he would say something.

Sam was really tired by midnight. Blaine seemed tired too, but he insisted that he wasn't, that they should play some video games. They weren't even actually that fun since they'd had to turn the sound way down when everyone else went to sleep, plus of course they couldn't yell at the screen, which was half the fun.

He turned the game off over Blaine's objections. "Seriously, dude, it's not like my family's gonna let us sleep in in the morning. It would suck to be as tired on spring break as we always are at school."

"Yeah, but couldn't we just take a nap after they go to work and school?"

"No way. I've got a lot more to show you." He walked into his bedroom and got ready for bed. He realized he was alone, so returned to the living room. Blaine was lying on the couch, completely dressed. "Dude, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Going to sleep."

"Don't be ridiculous. I have a double bed. Plenty of room."

"Yeah, but..." Blaine wasn't looking at him. "Don't you think it might be weird?"

"I always share the bed with friends who sleep over." True, he hadn't actually had a friend sleep over since he was...eleven? Ten? "You don't really think I'd be uncomfortable because you're gay?"

"No..." Blaine couldn't explain why maybe _he'd _be uncomfortable.

"Besides, we've slept together in a smaller bed than this. A few times."

"Well..." Only when they'd fallen asleep on accident. In their clothes. Over the covers. "Yeah, you're right."

Blaine kept acting really weird, though. He turned his back to Sam while he changed into his pajamas. Since when had he been shy around Sam? Sam had never tried to check him out or anything.

That is, it's not like he'd never looked at all. How can you share a small room with someone and not catch a glimpse now and then? Any whenever he'd catch a glimpse, purely by accident, it seemed like looking away would be rude, like he'd be implying that Blaine repulsed him or something.

And Blaine didn't repulse him at all. He was a good-looking guy. Sam kind of couldn't believe Jeff wasn't interested in him. What was _wrong _with Jeff? Actually, it had to be that Blaine didn't like Jeff. If Jeff ever actually said he didn't like Blaine, it was just sour grapes. Because what gay guy wouldn't like Blaine? If Sam were going to be into guys, he would totally be into someone like Blaine. Or, maybe not someone _like_ Blaine. Blaine himself.

Great. Now Sam did feel awkward about sleeping in the same bed as Blaine. He was just being stupid, of course. He pulled the sheets down, got in, and scooted over to the side that was against the wall. If Blaine had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night or something he didn't want him to be trapped.

Blaine got in, and they both lay on their backs, not sleeping but not talking either. Not until Sam's eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to be able to tell that Blaine was as wide awake as he was. "I guess I'm not as tired as I thought," he said.

"More Halo?"

"No."

"Okay."

"So..." What did people normally talk about at sleepovers when they couldn't sleep? This was _so different_ from being in the dorm room together. Okay, sleepover discussions. "Who do you like?"

"What?"

"I mean, now that you don't like Jeff anymore."

"I don't dislike Jeff."

"You know what I mean, dude. Now that you're not sexually attracted to Jeff anymore."

"I still think he's totally hot."

Sam elbowed him in the rib. "Then what's the problem?"

"Aren't there girls you think are hot but you wouldn't want to date?"

"Not if I didn't dislike them."

"Jeff likes someone else, okay?"

Sam turned on his side to look at Blaine. "I'm sorry, dude. I should've just shut up about him."

"No, it's all right. I wasn't that hung up on him or anything."

"So...is it Nick? Jeff and Nick would make a cute couple." Nick looked more like Blaine than any of the other gay guys at OHIO.

"What?" How much thought had Sam given to who Jeff would be cute with? "No, it's...it's a straight guy. So, you know. Kinda awkward."

"Yeah," Sam said. "I guess it would be."


	17. Jinx

**April 3, 2011**

It really, really sucked returning to OHIO after a relaxing spring break. Well, a spring break that was simultaneously too relaxing and not really relaxing at all. Too relaxing because she'd slept a lot and hadn't done any homework or studying at all. And not relaxing at all because most of the time that she'd been not studying, she was stressing about the fact that she was not only not getting caught up, but was actually falling further behind.

So Tina fully intended, honestly, to go straight to her room as soon as Sam's mom dropped them off at school and get to work. If she started at four and worked straight through until midnight, that would still be pretty good. Not enough, probably, to get caught up completely, but enough to be in better shape than before the break.

In fact—eight hours? That _would_ probably be enough to get caught up. Sure it would. She didn't even really have to start _right _away. For one thing, Sam's mom was a surprisingly fast driver, and it wasn't even four yet when they got to Lima. And for another thing, she really wanted to talk to Blaine first. True, they'd "talked" in the car, but that was with Sam around, not to mention Mrs. Evans. Blaine and Sam had both seemed sort of strange and awkward, and Tina wanted to find out why. It wasn't just nosiness—and it certainly wasn't procrastination. It was her duty as Blaine's friend. And Sam's too, she guessed.

While Sam was hugging and saying good-bye to his mother, she asked Blaine if he would walk across the street to the drug store with her after they put their stuff in their rooms. "I'm thinking of coloring my hair," she explained, "and I want your advice."

"Sure," Blaine said. "Let's just see if Sam wants to come too." Before Tina could think of a reason to object, Sam was walking toward them and Blaine was asking him, "Wanna walk over to Walgreens with me and Tina?"

"To look at hair color," Tina added.

"Hmm, very tempting," Sam said. "But I should really get caught up on my geometry homework. I don't want my tutor to realize what a moron I am."

"You're not a moron," Tina and Blaine both said, more or less in unison. He wasn't, either—not at all. He was _way_ more talented musically and artistically than Tina. So he wasn't great at math, big deal. Lots of people weren't. It was kind of a useless thing to be good at anyway, especially at OHIO.

Not everyone was back from spring break yet, but most of the girls from Tina's dorm who were seemed to be hanging out in the lobby or the wing lounges getting caught up. Except Rachel—Tina could hear her singing in their room from all the way down the hall. She almost didn't want to intrude to drop her stuff off. She still found Rachel super annoying, but she had begun to sort of admire how she was so focused that she didn't even seem to mind not really having any friends.

Whenever Tina felt like she didn't have any friends—not _really_, not anyone who _really_ liked her, just a few people who tolerated her company because they felt like they had to—it fucking killed her. And Rachel, she didn't even have anyone who hung out with her enough to make people think she had friends—at least Tina had that...most of the time, anyway. And hey, she'd even managed to get Blaine to do something with her without dragging Sam along. True, he'd tried, but it was still like a major fucking victory. God, how fucking pathetic was that?

Rachel stopped singing as soon as Tina opened the door. "Sorry," Tina said. "I'm actually not staying."

"How was your break?" Rachel asked.

"Good. I slept a lot. How about yours?"

"Wonderful! My dads took me to New York. We saw _Wicked_ and, oh, and _How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying_—Daniel Radcliffe was fabulous!—and—"

"Cool," Tina said. Must be nice. And here Tina had been excited that her mother bought her sugary breakfast cereal. Which reminded her, she should pick up some Cocoa Puffs and milk. "What was that you were singing just now? Barbara?"

"Yeah. I mean, since we never get to do any of her songs in glee..." Not that Rachel hadn't suggested it many, many times.

"Her stuff doesn't really lend itself to group numbers," Tina said. Again, not that Mr. Schuester hadn't made the same point many, many times.

"I guess not. I just think she's a tragically overlooked artist." What she meant was that she herself was tragically overlooked as an artist. Fuck, it was hard not to be annoyed with Rachel, even when she was trying to be sympathetic.

Luckily Tina had somewhere else to be. Blaine was waiting for her in the lobby, talking to Brittany and Santana. "Tina!" he called. "You didn't tell me you were working on a number with Britt and San."

"Just in the background." It was really Santana's song; she had asked Brittany and Tina to do some backup singing and dancing. It was obvious why she'd asked Brittany, but Tina really didn't know why she'd asked her. Presumably because all the girls who were any good weren't available. She hoped it wasn't going to be something that was too hard and/or made her look ridiculous.

"Why don't you come over after seven o'clock checks?" Brittany asked her. "We can decide on a song and stuff."

"I've already decided on a song," Santana said. "But come over anyway. We can start planning and shit."

"Yeah, okay," Tina said. What she meant to say was that she really had to study. But it was kind of hard to say no to Santana; that girl could be scary as fuck. "So, Blaine, you ready?"

"Yeah." Blaine hopped off the table he'd been sitting on and they walked outside. "So what color are you thinking of?"

"Huh? Oh. Uh, I don't know yet. Let's see what they've got." She had actually been thinking of coloring her hair for a while, but it hadn't progressed much beyond a vague idea. But that wasn't really the point. "So...did you and Sam have a fight or something? Because you were both acting kind of weird around each other in the car."

"Did I tell you that he takes pictures of dead bats?"

"Yeah, it came up, actually. Is that what this is about? Because it seemed like he had a pretty good reason to, if there's that bat disease going around..."

"No," Blaine said, sighing. "That's not what it's about. God, am I that obvious?" He glanced at Tina and went on before she could answer. "Yeah, I know, it's just that you're super perceptive. So you probably already know I have a little crush on him."

"Uh, yeah." No shit.

"So...we slept in the same bed when I stayed over with him, and...Jesus, this is embarrassing..."

"You don't have to tell me the details," Tina said. She really, really hoped he wouldn't, in fact.

"Well, and I mean, I'm not _sure_ if he noticed. I mean, I was careful to stay way far away from him so I wouldn't touch him accidentally. And if we hadn't been in the same bed...like if it happened here and I was alone in my bunk and he was in his, I could take care of—"

Tina put her fingers in her ears and went, "La la la!" She was partially trying to be humorous, but she also really, really didn't want to hear. Jesus, why had she thought bringing this up was a good idea?

And Blaine wouldn't just let it drop. Like, he was probably trying to be discreet or something, but he wouldn't just change the subject altogether. He went on, "Cause, like, I can be quiet. I've had to...you know...a few times at night in the dorm room, and he's never noticed. At least...oh my God, I _hope_ he's never noticed. No, I'm sure he hasn't because I'm super quiet. But anyway, it's not like I could...you know, do anything with him right there next to me. So I had to get up and go into the bathroom to...you know...but I think he must have figured it out, because I had already peed before we went to bed, and also then he was acting all awkward, so that would explain why."

"Oh, I'm sure he didn't know. And even if he did, it's no big deal." Tina was trying her best to sound like she wasn't super uncomfortable. "I mean, that's just something that happens to guys, right? And by the way, that's a rhetorical question—please don't answer it." Well, so much for not sounding uncomfortable.

"I guess, but then the second night was even worse..."

Thank God they were at the drug store now. "So, do you know what aisle the hair coloring stuff is in?" Tina asked.

They found the aisle and stood staring at the rows of boxes for a while. Tina forced herself to chatter about hair color, as if it were the most interesting topic in the world. She did _not_ want to give Blaine a chance to tell any more embarrassing details of his nights at Sam's house. "So black is out, obviously. Brown would be boring and pointless. I guess that leaves blonde or red. Shit, I wish they had some better choices..."

A store employee asked if she could help them find anything. Normally Tina would have said no thanks, but she jumped at the chance to pull someone else into a conversation with no sexual overtones. "Do you have any fun colors? Like blue or purple or pink? Or red, like not _auburn_ or whatever, but like fire engine red?"

"No, not here. Sorry. You might want to try a brand called Manic Panic; I think you can order it online. Of course, with your natural color..." She actually picked up a strand of Tina's hair, which was slightly weird. "You'll probably have to bleach it first if you want the color to show." She handed her a box of what she said was the best bleach they carried.

Tina took it and headed to the cash register. "Did you need anything?" she asked Blaine as she grabbed a couple packs of Reese's. She didn't want to be inconsiderate if he did, but she really wanted to get back to the dorm now. She had a shit ton of homework, after all. Luckily he said he didn't.

She did manage to get a little homework done before dinner. True, it was only the easiest stuff, calculus, but it was something. She was kind of pissed at herself for having to go to dinner at all, which she wouldn't have had to do if she'd remembered to stop at the grocery store after the drug store. So after dinner she went back across the street—alone this time—for cereal and other essentials.

By the time she got back to the dorm and put her perishable stuff in her wing's fridge, it was almost time for dorm checks. It didn't really make any sense to try to get any studying in with so little time before she'd have to go back to the lounge and then go to Brittany and Santana's room in C wing. So she just took the nonperishables up to her room and then returned to the lounge to hang out until checks.

Tina had never been in Brittany and Santana's room before. It was as cluttered as Tina's half of her room, which she appreciated. But unlike Tina and Rachel's, there wasn't a clear Brittany's half and Santana's half. The bunk beds were taken apart so they were both just regular beds next to each other in the middle of the room. The sheets and comforters matched—they'd probably gone shopping together before coming to OHIO—though neither bed was made. The desks were equally strewn with random junk; the clothes on the floor could have belonged to either of them.

The walls, though—there was definitely a Brittany wall and a Santana wall. They did sort of match, but Brittany's had a sign with her name in stylized letters, and Santana's had a sign with hers. They had pictures on them, eight-by-ten photos, of kids—mostly boys—some from OHIO and some who Tina didn't recognize. Brittany's wall had way more pictures, and they were more artistically taken. Santana's were just regular snapshots, but blown up. The photos on Brittany's side also had slips of paper underneath with various numbers of hash marks on them. The picture of Santana had the most.

"What's with the pictures?" Tina asked.

"Oh, those are just the people we've—" Brittany started, but Santana cut her off.

"None of your fucking business, Chang."

"Cohen-Chang," Tina said. "So...what song are we doing?"

"'Single Ladies,'" Santana said.

Brittany clapped. Tina's jaw dropped. "I can't do the 'Single Ladies' dance!"

"Why not?" Brittany asked.

"Don't play her little game, Britt," Santana snapped. "Haven't you realized yet that that's her thing? Putting herself down, saying she sucks at everything, just so everyone else will go, 'Oh no, Tina, you're really good!'" She turned to Tina. "As if you really think I'd ask you to do the song with me if I thought you sucked, Chang...or Cohen, or Chang-Cohen-Jingleheimer-Schmidt or whatever you wanna call yourself. If I just agree with you that you suck and you're the worst singer and the worst dancer in the school, will you finally shut the fuck up and stop fishing for compliments?"

"Santana, that's mean," Brittany said. "Tina's good."

Santana threw her hands up. "I know she's good! That's what I'm trying to say! I just want her to stop fucking pretending she doesn't know it."

Tina had never heard a compliment that made her want to cry so bad. She nodded and muttered, "Okay," not daring to look up from whosever desk she was sitting at.

As she was looking at the pictures and dishes and grooming items and other stuff lying around on it, Brittany noticed one object before Tina did. "Santana," she said, "you left your vibrator out again."

"Oh Jesus," Tina said as she squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't open them until she heard Santana put something—the offending object, she assumed—in the desk drawer and close it.

"Quit acting like you've never seen one," Santana said.

"Maybe she hasn't," Brittany said. "You hadn't until I gave you that one. Tina, you should totally get one if you don't have one already. They're awesome. Especially if you're like Santana and you can't come from just a dick."

Tina stood up and made for the door. "I should go. I have a ton of homework I didn't get to over the break."

"Plus you have to learn all the words to 'Single Ladies,'" Santana called down the hall after her. "We'll start working on the choreography tomorrow."

**April 7, 2011**

Tina was nice enough to help Sam with his math homework, even though it wasn't their usual tutoring time. He had just been more distracted than usual since getting back from break. Especially in the room, or any time Blaine was around, really, it seemed like he just couldn't concentrate.

He was kind of tempted to talk to Tina about Blaine. She had known him longer than he had. But then, it wasn't exactly Blaine who he was wondering about; it was himself. Tina wouldn't be able to help him with that, even if talking to her wouldn't be totally awkward, which it so would.

So Sam stuck to talking about geometry, books and notebooks spread out across one of the tables in the cafeteria. Tina was actually not that great a tutor. Math was really easy for her—like, the answers seemed so obvious to her that she kind of couldn't understand how some people wouldn't get it right away. It wasn't that she was mean about it or condescending or anything; she just always seemed at a loss as to how to explain concepts that she apparently thought were self-evident.

Her help wasn't totally useless, though. Working with Tina forced Sam to actually finish the homework, which was not insignificant. And she would tell him when he was doing it wrong. Once in a while he even understood something she tried to teach him.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights, though, and he contented himself with just getting through the homework. Blaine walked past just when they were almost done, and Tina waved him over. "Am I interrupting?" he asked before he sat down to join them.

"No," Sam said, finishing the last problem. "If this one is right, I've got nothing else to do. Well, nothing that I'm going to do until room checks, probably." He did have more homework to do, but after geometry he always need a break.

Tina looked at Sam's answer and nodded. "This is right. See? It's not so hard."

The hell it wasn't. But Sam just smiled. "You have anything else going on, Tina?"

"Nope." She swung her legs around and put her feet up on the table.

"No way!" Sam said. He put his feet on the table too; they were both wearing red Chuck Taylors. Tina's were just a little more faded.

"Cool, twinsies," Tina said.

"Twinsies?" Blaine said. "Is that another weird game that everyone but me knows about?"

"Yes," Tina said. "It means that Sam and I get a billion points and anyone who isn't a twinsie has to hop on one foot for two minutes."

Blaine looked nervously from Sam to Tina and back to Sam, who let him off the hook. "Relax, dude. She's just messing with you."

Blaine crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it across the table at Tina. "You actually had me going."

"I know," Tina said, laughing. "That's what makes it funny."

"I seriously sometimes think you two are in cahoots with these weird games and supposed traditions you come up with. Slug bug. Jinx. The whole Saint Patrick's Day thing."

"The whole what day thing?" Tina asked.

"Saint Patrick's Day," Blaine repeated.

But of course Tina repeated it too, at the exact same time, and then called, "Jinx!" She grinned at him and said to Sam, "So, what should the two of us talk about now that our friend can't say anything?"

"Who, that guy?" Sam asked, pointing at Blaine. "That guy who obviously doesn't want me to say his name because if he did he wouldn't be giving me the finger?" Blaine stopped giving Sam the finger and started making a begging motion instead—with puppy dog eyes. It was actually really fucking cute.

Sam was about to relent and say Blaine's name so he could talk again, but he didn't get the chance. Jeff walked over to their table and said, "Hey, Sam. Hey, Tina. Hey—"

"Don't say his name!" But it was too late; Jeff said it at the exact same time Tina was telling him not to.

"Thank you, Jeff," Blaine said. "My one true friend, apparently."

"Your one true what?" Tina asked.

"Nice try."

"Jeff, dude, you wanna sit down?" Sam asked. "Blaine was just telling me and Tina that he thinks we made up the jinx game."

Jeff sat next to Sam. "Oh, is that what you were doing? But I only said his name once."

"See?" Tina said. She had tried to convince Sam that a person couldn't be unjinxed until someone said their name _three _times. Sam insisted it only had to be once. Because come on, three times was just ridiculous.

A lengthy and heated discussion about the rules of various games ensued. Sam and Tina had been through most of it several times before—and Blaine never got involved—but having Jeff there made it seem almost like a new conversation. It was a wee bit frustrating, though, because he agreed with about half of Tina's rule interpretations and about half of Sam's. Maybe it would make the most sense to go with whatever Jeff said, since his vote made it two-to-one, but Sam couldn't quite concede the points on which he differed from the other two, nor could Tina.

"We need to ask more than just three people," Tina said.

"I've got it!" Sam said. He took out his phone, blocked his number from appearing on caller ID, and started calling dorm rooms—they all had the same area code and prefix, followed by the dorm number and then room number—until someone answered. "Yes, good afternoon," he said, making his voice a little deeper than normal. "I'm calling from Gallup...Polling...Place because you've been selected to participate in our very scientific survey. First question: Do you know what the jinx game is?"

Tina wrote and passed Sam a note that said, "Put them on speaker," so Sam did.

"You mean that thing where two people say the same thing and one of them jinxes the other?"

"That is correct," Sam said. He wrote "Ha ha" on the sheet of paper with Tina's note and passed it to Blaine, who crumpled it. "And what penalty does the jinxee have to endure?" He went through a whole long "survey" with this guy—it kind of sounded like David Thompson, but he wasn't sure—while Tina wrote down all the answers.

"Okay, my turn!" Tina said when Sam hung up. She blocked her number and called numbers starting with the one after Sam's successful call. After four that went to voicemail and two who hung up on her, she got someone.

"Hello, this is Mandy Levine with Gallup Polls. How are you doing this afternoon, sir?" She set the phone to speaker.

"Fine."

"Well, I am delighted to hear that. We're conducting a poll for our annual games report—I'm sure you've read it, haven't you?"

"Is this Tina Cohen-Chang?"

Sam laughed. He tried to muffle it, but not very successfully. Tina took her phone off speaker. "Tina Cohen-Chang, who in the world is that? My name is Mandy...Levine...Well, what makes you think I'm this 'Tina' person?...Really?...Yeah, well I was just sitting around with Sam and Blaine and Jeff, and Blaine got jinxed; you know that game, right?..." And she just fucking walked off, talking to whoever it was who knew it was her!

"So much for our scientific survey, I guess," Sam said.

"No, I'll try one," Jeff said.

While Jeff was trying numbers, Blaine's phone rang. "Hello?...Oh, hi, mom." Jeff put his phone down while Blaine talked to his mother. "No, I'm in the cafeteria...Yeah, I guess...Is everything okay? No one's hurt or anything?...Okay, well I'll call you when I get there." He hung up.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, she said so, but she wants me to call her back from the room for some reason."

"Oh. Well I'll be sure not to barge in on you."

"Okay." Blaine looked at Sam and Jeff as if he wanted to say something else, but he just walked off.

Jeff picked his phone back up. "Want me to keep trying?"

"Nah, it's okay," Sam said. He'd lost interest now that Tina and Blaine were both gone. "Wanna walk or something? It's finally getting warm out, we shouldn't spend all night sitting inside this ugly cafeteria."

"Sure!" Jeff jumped up, and they walked outside together.

It wasn't that warm anymore now that the sun was going down, but it was still pleasant enough without jackets. Sam looked up at the moon. It wasn't much more than a sliver, but it was pretty. "Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked as they started around the building.

"Yeah, of course."

Sam kept looking up, which seemed easier than looking at Jeff. It was maybe a somewhat embarrassing question. "If it's too personal you don't have to answer or anything. But I mean...Blaine told me he sort of always knew he was gay. And he said Kurt told him it was the same with him. So..."

"So did I always know too?"

"Did you?" Sam finally glanced at Jeff to see if he looked offended. Luckily he didn't.

"Yeah, I think so. I didn't know what 'gay' was when I was little, of course. But when I came out or whatever to my parents, they were like, 'Yeah, we've always known.'"

"Uh-huh." Sam nodded slowly. "That's how I thought it worked."

"Well, but maybe not always. I mean what about...Like, why do you ask? Are you just curious, or...?"

"I was just wondering if anyone ever realizes it later on. Like...and maybe it's different for guys who are, like, bisexual. Like, is it possible to be into the opposite sex for, like, your whole life, and never really even question it, and then all of a sudden you think you might be into someone of the same sex?"

"I don't see why not," Jeff said, kicking a rock out of his path. "I think if...someone...felt that way, he should probably explore it a little."

"Like what? Watch some gay porn or something? I've already...fuck."

"It's okay, Sam." Jeff put his hand on his shoulder. "I kinda suspected you were talking about yourself."

"I guess I'm pretty obvious?"

"No, I wouldn't say that. So...how was the porn? Any, uh, reaction?"

Sam shrugged and looked up at the sky again. "Some. I guess. Not as much as with straight porn. Not as much as when I'm with...this...person. This guy, I mean."

Jeff stopped walking. "Would you like to try kissing...a guy?"

"No. I mean, yeah, I'd like to. But I couldn't just ask this guy. I mean, what if he doesn't want to and he thinks I'm an asshole? Or what if he doesn't think I'm an asshole at first, but then we do kiss and I realize I'm totally straight and the whole thing was in my imagination, and _then_ he decides I'm an asshole for dragging him into all this crap?"

"I doubt that would happen."

"How do you know?"

Jeff sighed. "Well, what if he asked you?"

"That would be kind of awesome. But I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen either."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to try kissing me?"

"What?"

"Would you like...don't make me say it again."

"No, sorry. I heard you." The offer had just taken him completely by surprise. It was a great idea, actually. Way lower stakes than if he tried to kiss Blaine and it turned out to be a horrible mess. He just couldn't believe Jeff would really be willing to help him out this way. "Are you serious? I mean are you sure?"

"I'm totally sure." Jeff leaned toward him.

"Awesome! Let's go somewhere else though." He didn't want anyone to see them and think he and Jeff were a couple. _That_ could be awkward to explain to Blaine if Sam ever did decide to...well, explore being more than friends.

"We could go to...my room?"

"Hey, that'd be perfect!" Jeff had a room to himself, since the guy who used to be his roommate had dropped out at the end of the first semester. Sam thanked him some more as they walked to his room. "Seriously, I really, really appreciate this. You're sure it won't be weird for you?"

"Why would it be weird for me?"

"I dunno." Why would it be, actually? Sam would probably kiss some girl who asked him to help her figure out if she was really straight. Besides, Jeff could have said no. "You know you could say no and I wouldn't be offended. Right?"

"What do you mean, 'say no'? It was my idea."

"Right. Good point."

Sam wasn't totally sure what he was supposed to do once inside Jeff's room. Like, should he sit down, or...? He just stood in the middle of the room. This was weird. He'd never planned to kiss anyone before. In fact, he'd still only ever kissed anyone that one time, and he certainly was not interested in reenacting _that _encounter. Jeff stood in front of him, very close.

"So...on the count of three?" Sam asked.

But Jeff didn't wait for any counting. He cupped the back of Sam's head and brought their lips together. Sam noticed Jeff's eyes were closed, so he closed his too. This felt a little weird, kissing a dude, but it was not unpleasant. Jeff's lips were soft. His hand was still on the back of Sam's head, sort of massaging his scalp. That was nice. He put his hand in Jeff's hair to do the same. His hair was soft too.

Then—oh! Jeff was trying to put his tongue in Sam's mouth. What should he do? _Just go with it, Sam, if you want to find out if this does anything for you._ He parted his lips and let Jeff in. It felt...what? Besides strange, that is. It tasted okay, not like bad breath or anything. Crap, what did Sam's mouth taste like? What was the last thing he ate? He probably should have asked Jeff for some mouthwash or something first.

Sam was thinking it was probably time to wrap this up when Jeff pressed his whole body into his and moaned into his mouth. Now that...okay, now something was going on. Sam let his hands fall around Jeff's waist and pulled him in tighter still. It wasn't as good as he thought it would be if he were doing this with Blaine...Fuck! He imagined for a second that he _was_ doing this with Blaine and it was...Fuck! He had to pull away before things went too far.

It was almost time for checks, anyway. He slapped Jeff on the shoulder. "You're awesome, Jeff. Seriously, thanks! That really helped. See ya." He walked out into the hall.

Jeff stood in the door and watched him. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"So, uh. I guess we'll talk tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course. G'night!"


	18. The Start of a Beautiful Relationship

**April 7, 2011 (Continued)**

"Hello, this is Mandy Levine with Gallup Polls. How are you doing this afternoon, sir?" Tina set the phone to speaker.

"Fine."

"Well, I am delighted to hear that. We're conducting a poll for our annual games report—I'm sure you've read it, haven't you?"

"Is this Tina Cohen-Chang?"

What!? Sam laughed; damn it, if there was any way to salvage this call he was going to ruin it. She took the phone off speaker. "Tina Cohen-Chang, who in the world is that?" Yep, feigning innocence was the best strategy she could come up with. "My name is Mandy."

"Mandy Jasmine?"

Shit, she should have come up with a different fake first name than she did for the original Oz BAMF e-mail. "Levine." Picking a Jewish last name, good thinking! At least she didn't call herself Mandy Levine-Kim or something.

"I know your name isn't Mandy Levine."

She still wasn't quite willing to concede that she'd been caught. It might help if she knew who she was talking to, but she didn't recognize the voice. "Well, what makes you think I'm this 'Tina' person?"

"Because I recognize your voice. I've heard you sing lots."

"Really?" He didn't add, "and you suck" or even seem to be implying it.

"Yeah. I go to all the glee performances. I might even switch next year from choir. So, what, did you just get bored and decide to fake-survey people about...what was it? Games or something?"

"Yeah, well I was just sitting around with Sam and Blaine and Jeff, and Blaine got jinxed; you know that game, right?" Everyone at the table was looking at her weird, especially when she said their names. She wasn't interested in jinx anymore, and she suddenly didn't like everyone listening to her conversation, so she walked away, hoping to find an empty classroom or something.

"Sure I know it. Hey, sorry we couldn't ask you to join the GMC when we asked those guys. Wes is pretty adamant about keeping it all-male."

GMC...the Gay Men's Chorus. And she couldn't be talking to Wes, so... "Scott!"

She heard a laugh. "Very good. I was wondering if you were going to figure out who I was."

"What 'figure out'? _I_ called _you_. Besides, I've heard you sing too." She had; his singing voice was great. It's just that it sounded very little like his speaking voice.

"Uh-huh. Well, anyway, if you're bored, I'm just outside sitting by Sweven, not working on my history assignment. You wanna walk around or something?"

"Sure. I'm actually really close to the front doors of the school," she said, having taken the route from the cafeteria to the classrooms that would take her past them. "I guess I'll see you in like a minute."

And that was how Tina started "going out," apparently, with Scott Hillman.

XOXOXO

The discussion about all the weird games Blaine had never even heard of before he moved to Ohio was not all that interesting to him. So he wasn't that tempted to let his phone go to voicemail when it rang. "Hello?"

"Blaine! I'm glad you answered!"

"Oh, hi, mom." Good, Jeff was putting his phone down. Maybe they could talk about something interesting when he was done talking to his mother. Like where the hell Tina went?

"Are you in your room, honey?"

That was kind of a weird question, and not one his mom usually opened with. "No, I'm in the cafeteria."

"Well I want to talk to you about something important. Can you go to your room or somewhere that there won't be distractions and call me back?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Great. I'll talk to you—"

"Is everything okay? No one's hurt or anything?"

"No, nothing like that. It's important, but everyone's fine."

"Okay, well I'll call you when I get there." He hung up. Despite the reassurance that everyone was okay, he couldn't help but be a little worried.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, she said so, but she wants me to call her back from the room for some reason."

"Oh. Well I'll be sure not to barge in on you."

"Okay." Blaine hated to leave Sam and Jeff alone together. He should have never called Jeff his one true friend. Jeff wasn't his friend at all, and while he knew he had to play nice so he could hang out with them when they were together, he did not want Jeff to get the wrong idea. But there wasn't much he could do about it now, so he just left.

On his way to the front doors he passed Tina. She looked a little flushed—maybe she wasn't feeling well and that was why she walked off? But she was still on the phone, so he'd have to ask her about it later.

He hurried to his room and got settled cross-legged on the bed before calling his mom back. "So what is it?"

"Your father's been offered a position at Penn State."

"That's great!" Blaine didn't realize he'd been looking for a different job, but he was pretty sure Penn State ranked above Kent State. "I thought you wanted to tell me something bad."

"I said it was important. How did you get bad from 'important'?"

"It just sounded ominous, I guess."

"There is one thing I'm not sure you realize. If we move..."

Oh yeah, the moving talk. They'd already moved a bunch of time's for his dad's job. Blaine was never especially happy about that, but it seemed to matter less now than it had when he actually lived at home. It would suck not getting to hang out with Sam much on breaks, but they probably wouldn't move until August, and anyway Pennsylvania wasn't that far, so... Shit, he didn't catch what his mother just said. "Sorry. What was that?"

"If we move you won't be able to stay at OHIO. It's only open to Ohio state residents."

"What!?"

"That's the school's policy. You would be able to finish the school year, but not go back in the fall."

XOXOXO

Blaine looked a little weird at dorm checks. Or maybe Sam was projecting because _he _felt a little weird? But he'd gotten that call from his mother, so Sam should at least check and make sure he was all right.

"What did your mom say?"

"Oh." Blaine looked at him vacantly. "My dad...he wants me to go home to visit this weekend. He's picking me up tomorrow right after seventh period."

"And...?"

Blaine shook his head. "Nothing. I mean, he got this job offer that for some reason he wants the whole family to talk about. Cooper's even coming home for the weekend."

"How would it even affect Cooper?"

"It wouldn't. My dad's just...kinda weird about wanting it to be a family decision."

"That does sound weird. Are you sure that's all? You look sorta..."

"No, that's all. I guess I was just thinking about how it'll be a pain to have to pack tonight, but it's not a big deal." Blaine smiled at him, if you could call it a smile. "So are you going back to the room?"

"Not...right away. I've got a painting I wanted to work on in the studio for a while."

"Okay. Well, I'll see you later then."

Sam did have a painting he needed to work on, but mainly he just wanted to be alone for a little while to think things through. He walked slowly toward the studio.

When Jeff made his offer it seemed like a great idea, like it would really clear everything up. But what, exactly, had it cleared up? If anything?

Well, it did answer the question of whether kissing a guy would be really gross. It wasn't. It was just too bad he didn't have more girl kisses to compare it with. Kissing Jeff did not have the effect on him that kissing Santana did, but then, there was a lot more than kissing going on with Santana.

Which brought him to the next point, what happened when Jeff pressed against him. He had...yes, he had reacted to that. And not just his semivoluntary reaction of pulling Jeff closer—though that reaction undoubtedly meant something too.

Or maybe it didn't. Maybe neither reaction meant anything, not the involuntary one and not the semivoluntary one either. As for the former, well, it was a physical reaction to a physical sensation. If it were something that could _only_ happen when you were really attracted to someone, then there would be no closeted gay men who married women and had kids. Unless _all_ their wives were cheating on them, which wasn't very likely. And as for the latter...it was an experiment, after all. Naturally he wanted to find out what would happen if Jeff were closer.

The only thing he didn't have an explanation for was the...the intensification of the original reaction as soon as he started thinking about Blaine. That was a very definite physical reaction without a clear physical cause.

So...if he accepted the obvious conclusion—which he didn't want to rush into, because there might be other explanations that he hadn't thought of yet—but _if _he accepted it...that left him where, exactly?

It would be pretty risky to say anything to Blaine. He had no reason to assume Blaine would be into him. It would be insulting, right, to just assume that Blaine would be interested in any guy who happened to be interested in him? He knew that Blaine at least liked him _as a friend_, but that could very easily make things harder instead of easier. Like...like Tina. She was cute. But they were friends, and Sam couldn't imagine her as anything else. If they weren't already friends, maybe he could.

Not to mention the huge complication of Blaine being his roommate. There wasn't just the potential for awkwardness, there was the potential for awkwardness of astronomical proportions. Like...Jesus, what if something like what happened with Santana happened with Blaine? Shit, he'd never be able to sleep in the same room with him again. He'd have to sleep curled up in the tiny shower or something, or sneak into Puck's room and sleep in his old bed. And who knew what Puck had done in that bed in the meantime?

The best thing to do for now was clearly nothing. He would take his time and not do anything rash—if, in fact, he decided to do anything at all. If he didn't figure anything out right away, it was okay. He could think about it all summer if necessary and make his move (if any) in the fall.


	19. Risk

**April 8, 2011**

It was only a little after seven and it already seemed weird having Blaine gone for the weekend. The room seemed super empty and quiet. Sam didn't especially feel like going to the open mic thing—he had been planning to go to hear the GMC, but now that Blaine wouldn't be singing with them, the idea had lost its appeal. But at the last minute he decided that going would be better than just sitting alone in his room.

He had been planning to walk over with Tina, with the idea that Blaine would join them after the GMC's songs. He called to see if she was still planning to go, and she said she was.

"Cool, so you wanna meet in front of Mu in like ten minutes?"

"I thought you said you weren't going since Blaine isn't singing."

"Yeah, but I changed my mind."

"Well..." Tina hesitated. "I'm going with Brooke and Ellen and Pauline."

"Oh."

"But you could come over to the girls' dorm and meet us in the lobby. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

So now his options were: mope around like a loser all night, or tag along with a gaggle of girls he barely knew. He told Tina he'd meet them in the lobby. He really had to make more guy friends. There were Puck and Jeff, but they were both performing: Puck with Rachel and Jeff with the GMC.

Sam thought briefly about grabbing his guitar and playing a song himself. But he dismissed the idea immediately. Even though it was called open mic and technically anyone could just show up and do something, _no one_ did that without preparing and rehearsing.

He probably should have just stayed in his room and moped, he decided as he was walking over to the school with Tina and her friends. They were talking about coloring their hair—in detail. They were planning to do it together, like a party or something. Seriously, they even talked about what snacks they should bring and what music they should listen to.

The performances were pretty good, though, so he guessed it was worth it. Jeff came over and sat with them after the GMC's songs, and so did Scott Hillman. "You guys were awesome!" Sam told Jeff. And they were really good, even if he still wasn't totally into the whole a cappella thing.

"Thanks, that's really sweet," Jeff said. "But if we sucked you can tell me. We had to change pretty much everything at the last minute since Blaine ditched us without any warning."

"Yeah, he feels bad about that. His dad made him go home for the weekend. Blaine just found out yesterday."

"I hope there's no family emergency or anything. And...does your failure to say we sucked mean you don't think we did?"

"No, it's not an emergency, and no, of course you didn't suck."

Jeff looked like he wanted to say something else, but the next act was starting. It was Santana singing "Single Ladies" with Brittany and Sofia as backup dancers/singers. They were really hot. And good. And really, really hot. "I thought Blaine told me you were doing this song with them," Sam whispered to Tina.

"I didn't have time," Tina whispered back.

After the last performance, their little group dissolved. Tina and Scott were the first ones to walk off. Sam didn't even realize they really knew each other, but maybe they were in some classes together that he didn't know about. The other girls—Pauline, Ellen, and Brooke—decided go watch some Netflix. They didn't even invite Sam or Jeff, which—not that he wanted to watch a stupid rom-com or whatever, but which Sam thought was a little rude. "You have anything to do?" he asked Jeff.

"Well, I was planning on washing my hair..."

"Dude, what?" Jeff's hair was maybe a little on the long side, and it looked like he probably did something more to it after showering than just let it dry however it wanted to, but...

"I'm joking. I don't have any special plans."

"Oh. Well you wanna come over?"

XOXOXO

"Blaine, what's wrong? I made kibbeh just for you."

It did used to be his favorite food. But when Tina found out, she tried to make him feel bad for eating sweet, adorable, innocent little baby lambs. And it sort of worked, damn her.

But more to the point, he just didn't feel like eating tonight; he just felt like talking about this new job—this possible new job—already. Cooper, who didn't know any more about it than Blaine did, had ended up picking him up and driving him home, so he hadn't been able to talk about it in the car. And dinner was ready when they got there, and his parents were very rigid about which topics were suitable for discussing at dinner and which topics weren't. Any kind of "family business" was not.

"Blaine?"

"Nothing, it's really good. Thanks." He forced himself to eat some more.

"Sam's father works for the National Park Service, doesn't he?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"What has he said about this government shutdown it looks like we're about to get?"

Current events. That was a topic that was suitable for dinner. Unfortunately Blaine had not been following current events, much less discussing them with Sam...though now that his mother mentioned it, he thought maybe he should have been. "Uh, he hopes it won't happen." That sounded like a safe bet.

"I'm sure he does," his dad said. "It would really be disastrous for a lot of people."

"Not that the Republicans care," Cooper added.

Blaine tuned out the conversation. It wasn't that he didn't care. Well, it sort of was that he didn't care. He did care about Sam's family. Abstractly he cared about other families too, but...but not right now. Right now there was only one thing he could think about.

Finally, _finally_ dinner ended and they could deal with family business. They moved to the living room. "All right," his dad said, "let's talk about Penn State."

"No," Blaine said.

Everyone gave him a really confused look. "It's the whole reason you and Cooper came home for the weekend," his mom said. "Besides, I thought you were eager to—"

"I don't mean no to talking about it. I mean no to the whole thing. No to taking the job, no to moving. That's my vote: no."

"Since when do we vote on stuff like this?" Cooper asked. He was right: the boys got to be in on the "discussions," they got to comment, but they didn't have any real say over the decisions.

"Then this is all just a farce, isn't it?" Blaine turned to his father. "The only reason we're even 'discussing' it is so that after you unilaterally make whatever decision you were going to make anyway, you can claim it was a family decision. Well, no. My vote is no. I want that on the record." There was no "record," of course, and Blaine knew he was making the opposite of reasoned arguments, the kind his parents would even pretend to listen to. He had made a list of reasoned arguments in his head; he just couldn't think of them now. Why the fuck hadn't he written them down?

He expected to have his outburst slapped down, but instead his parents just ignored it. It was almost worse, really.

"On the pro side," his father started, "they're offering significantly more money than I'm getting now."

"But KSU would probably give you a raise just to keep you," Cooper pointed out.

"Yes, they have made a retention offer. But it's still not as much."

Fucking great! "You've already talked to the department chair? Then you've already decided to do it." Blaine hated his own voice. It sounded so childish and whiny.

"You know that's not true, Blaine," his father said dismissively. He obviously thought Blaine was an idiot, because Blaine knew perfectly fucking well that it _was _true. "Also on the pro side, Penn State is more prestigious. And I'll have tenure."

"You have tenure now," Blaine said. He'd demanded it as a condition of taking the Kent State job in the first place.

"Good point," his dad said. "So that's not really a pro so much as it's the lack of a con."

Cooper sat forward. "It doesn't really make much difference to me whether you take the job or not. But I do think it would be pretty unfair to Blaine. He'll literally never again have an opportunity like that school he's going to now."

"That..." Their dad sighed and took his wife's hand.

She never spoke much during these discussions—not because she didn't have a say either, but because the two of them had already discussed it privately. Don't disagree in front of the kids; put up a united front—Blaine knew this was their strategy because he'd seen it in all their parenting books. But she did finish her husband's sentence now. "That is true."

XOXOXO

"Wow, it's...really loud over there," Jeff said. "Whose room is that?"

"Puck's. It used to be mine too, until..." Well, Jeff had probably heard all about that incident. Everyone had; it was famous.

"Does he always have girls in his room?"

Sam shrugged. "Not _always_, but it's not the first time."

"Being gay's actually a huge advantage," Jeff observed. "If you want to go into your boyfriend's room, you don't have to sneak."

"Good point." Sam laughed. "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

"I don't know. Do I?"

What? Had Jeff mentioned a boyfriend? And now he was testing Sam's memory or something? "I—" Christ, whatever girl Puck had in his room just made a really loud and embarrassing noise. And whatever they were doing—not that Sam didn't have a pretty good idea—didn't seem like it was about to stop any time soon. "Fuck, let's get out of here."

He led Jeff out into the lobby, without any definite idea of where they should go. So when he saw Artie Abrams and Adam Bridgeman setting up a game of Risk, he asked if he and Jeff could join in. They said sure and Adam pulled over a couple extra chairs.

"I don't...actually know how to play Risk," Jeff said.

"It's easy," Sam said, setting up his army. "I'll show you."

Jeff just stood there, though, looking down at the board. "Um...that's okay. I think I'm gonna...head back to my room actually."

"Yeah, okay," Sam said. "Later, dude."

The game was really good, and none of them even noticed the time until Max, the RC who was on duty in the office that night, came out and told them they'd better go if they didn't want to be late for room checks.

They left the game on the table with a note that said "DO NOT TOUCH." Artie wheeled himself off to his room, and Sam and Adam walked back to their wing together.

As they got closer to Adam's room, Sam could hear noises coming from Puck's room next door. Not as loud and embarrassing as before, but enough to tell him the girl was still in there. He didn't want Adam to notice anything—he was pretty sure the reason he and Puck got busted for drinking was because Adam didn't know how to keep his damn mouth shut. So he talked really loudly about their Risk game until Adam went into his room.

As soon as Adam's door shut behind him, Sam ran over to pound on Puck's door. It opened, eventually, but it seemed like it took forever. "Dude! You've got, like, two minutes to get—" Holy fucking shit. It was Rachel! And she was drunk; they both were. "You've got like two minutes to get Rachel out of here." He was exaggerating about the time, but not by fucking much.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Rachel, c'mon, you gotta go."

"But I'm having so much fuuun!"

"You're not going to be having any fucking fun if you get caught here," Sam yelled at her, except without actually yelling because he didn't want anyone else to hear. "It's almost eleven."

"Samuel!" Rachel said, pouting at him. "_You _are no fun. That's why you don't have a girlfriend."

"Shut the fuck up, Rachel, and come on!" Puck said.

"Fine. Let me get my boots on." Her fucking boots had, like, yards and yards of laces.

"Come _on_," Puck said, pulling her out into the hallway. "Fuck your boots."

"Let go of me!" Rachel yelled, until he did. At which point she wobbled, which she found _hilarious_. "Never mind. Help me."

Sam helped her onto Puck, piggy-back-style. "I'd come with you, dude, but..."

"No, it's cool." He ran down the hall with Rachel on his back, not even really checking whether the coast was clear. Because what else could he do even if it wasn't?

Sam wished he could help somehow; he tried to think of a way. But he couldn't. And if Puck got caught and Sam was with him...He kind of hated himself for it, but all he could bring himself to do was go into his room and wait for Scott to do the checks.

Tina, meanwhile, was brushing her teeth and vaguely wondering where Rachel was. She was never late for checks, so she must have gone home for the weekend. Tina did wonder why she hadn't mentioned that she was planning to, though. Or maybe she had mentioned it and Tina just wasn't paying attention. She did tend to tune Rachel out sometimes.

There was a pounding on the door and she heard Ellen yelling, "Tina! Open up!" She did, and there was Rachel, totally limp and only "standing" because Ellen was holding her up. "Help me get her into bed." They pushed her onto the lower bunk, and Tina tried to cover her with a blanket—a blanket off Tina's own bed, because Rachel was on top of hers.

Rachel kept thrashing around, throwing the blanket off. Ellen grabbed her head to force Rachel to look at her. "Lie still and shut the fuck up. Listen to me. _Shut the fuck up_ or you are going to get kicked out of this fucking school." Rachel began sobbing.

"I have to get to my room," Ellen said to Tina before she ran off. "Good luck with her."

Tina covered her up again, and this time Rachel didn't throw the blanket off. There was a knock. "Be quiet," Tina hissed before turning off the overhead light and opening the door.

"Room checks," Lou announced. Why she felt she had to announce it every night Tina would never know. It's not like she thought Lou was just dropping by to shoot the crap.

"Rachel's in bed," Tina told her.

"Is she all right?" Lou asked. Rachel was still crying.

Tina shrugged. "It's Rachel, so..."

Lou grinned but stopped short of laughing. "Feel better, Rachel!" she called before going to the next door.


	20. Vacancy

**April 8-9, 2011**

It was kind of a long night. Tina had actually been planning to go to bed early, but Rachel clearly had other ideas.

She didn't cry too long, thankfully—or at least not too long at once. She got quiet and Tina thought she had fallen asleep or, like, passed out. Honestly she wasn't too clear on the difference between falling asleep drunk and passing out drunk. She had never actually been around a drunk person before. It was sort of interesting, actually, and not totally what she would have expected.

The first unexpected thing, obviously, was that _Rachel_ was _drunk_. Of all the people she would have never expected to drink, especially on campus, Rachel was probably number one. She had to know that if she got caught she'd get suspended. Tina hoped Rachel would realize how big she owed her and Ellen for preventing that.

Another thing that was weird was that she kept veering from being Rachel squared—Rachel cubed—to being the anti-Rachel. The hysterical sobbing, for example, was over the top even for her. But when she stopped, she stopped suddenly and got all giggly and chatty. Not that _talking_ a lot was necessarily un-Rachel-like (though giggling was), but some of the stuff she wanted to talk about was pretty out of character.

"Tina! You never talk about yourself! Do you have a boyfriend?"

This came fairly early in the night, and Tina made the mistake of taking it as an actual question. She started to try to answer it, in fact. "Well, I'm not totally sure, actually. Not really, I guess, but I've been hanging around with—"

"It's awesome to have a boyfriend. _Awesome!_ But shhh! I can't tell you who my boyfriend is. It's a secret. We have a forbidden love." She sighed at the mention of forbidden love.

"Really?" Tina said. "Who is it?"

"Noah Pucker—" Rachel slapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God! I can't believe I told you! Oh my God, oh my God. Please don't tell anyone, Tina, _please_!"

Tina actually felt a little bad for tricking her, although it had been too easy to resist. But she didn't actually care much who Rachel's "boyfriend" was, and now Rachel was freaking out so bad. "Who did you say it was? I didn't quite catch the name. It must be someone who doesn't go to this school, right?"

"Yes! _Exactly_! He doesn't go to this school, he goes to...our rival school." OHIO didn't actually have a rival school. "That's why it has to be a secret."

Tina nodded seriously. "Yes, I can see why discretion is absolutely essential in this matter. Don't worry, Rachel. You can totally count on me to keep this information to myself."

"Oh, thank you, Tina!" Rachel draped herself around her roommate in a sloppy yet dramatic embrace. "You're the best, you're seriously the best. I know I can be kind of annoying to share a room with..."

"No. Not at all."

"You're the best, Tina! I really, really love you! Not in like a lesbian way because I actually have a boyfriend now and he's so adorable and hunky and...but not that I'm homophobic or anything, which obviously I'm not, but I just wanted to clarify that I don't love you in a lesbian way in case you might think I did and that might make you uncomfortable or like, if you were a lesbian and I'm not saying you are, but if you were then it might lead you on or—"

"It's cool, Rachel. I love you too. Totally platonically."

"_Platonically_. I could have avoided that whole rambling speech if I'd just been able to think of the word _platonically._ You're a genius, Tina. Hey, you wanna sing together? Anything you want. I won't even mention Barbara's name. Except right now, but only to mention that I'm not mentioning it."

Tina climbed up onto her bed, hoping Rachel would get the idea to do the same. But she didn't, she leaned against the bathroom door and sort of rocked herself from one foot to the other. "Yeah, let's sing together," Tina said. "But let's do it in the morning. When you're sober. I don't think we should be loud because if Lou comes up to see what's going on..."

"Oh my God." Rachel crumpled onto the floor. "If I get caught...Oh my God, Tina, I might get kicked out of school!" The sobbing started again.

"Well, it would probably only be a suspension for a first offense," Tina said. Surprisingly, this did not seem to comfort Rachel at all. "But maybe we should just go to sleep, so—"

"What was I thinking? What was I thinking!? Oh my God, I have to call Noah! I have to make sure he got back to his room in time!"

Tina noticed but did not comment on Rachel's mention of her "boyfriend's" name and her admission that he was, in fact, a student here.

"Tina! Oh my God, Tina, he's not answering! I shouldn't have let him walk me home—actually I think he carried me home. He was so sweet! But oh my God I shouldn't have let him. What if he didn't get back to his room in time because he was so worried about me? I could never forgive myself."

"Okay, Rachel? First of all, breathe." She seriously thought Rachel might hyperventilate or something. "I'm sure he's just asleep. Especially if he had as much to drink as you...Let's go to sleep, okay, Rachel? You can talk to Pu...you can talk to your boyfriend in the morning."

Rachel nodded and started to change into her pajamas. Tina actually thought this might be the end of it, but no. She cycled through everything again and again: the tears, the giggling, adoring Tina, freaking out about Puck. She had mostly sobered up by around three, but she didn't wear herself out and fall asleep until about four.

**April 10, 2011**

Blaine wasn't back in time for dinner on Sunday, but that was all right because Cooper had bought him dinner in a truck stop on the way. Blaine had suggested a Cracker Barrel, but then Cooper told him about how they discriminated against their gay employees. So they went to some no-name place instead.

Cooper had been really, really great the whole weekend. He'd really tried to convince their parents not to make Blaine have to leave OHIO. He'd even suggested that maybe he could move back to Ohio, get an apartment in Cleveland or something, and Blaine could live with him. But their parents shot that idea down, saying they'd have to sign over legal custody or something and they weren't willing to do that.

The decision about the Penn State job wasn't officially made yet, and wouldn't be until Thursday. That's when Blaine's dad had told the department heads he'd let them know by. But it didn't matter, Blaine knew it was a done deal.

Sam was sprawled on the bed with a comic book—sprawled on Blaine's bed with a comic book—when Blaine walked into the room. Sam looked up and smiled sheepishly. "You caught me. Your bed is just way nicer than mine."

"Maybe that's because I wash my sheets once in a while." In fact, he had a clean set in the basket full of laundry he'd done at home over the weekend. He dropped the basket in the middle of the room, told Sam to scoot over, and lay down next to him, on his stomach, face in the pillow.

"Bad weekend at home?" Sam asked him.

Blaine wanted to blurt everything out, but he couldn't. He didn't know how he could do it without letting on that the worst part about not coming back next year was not getting to see Sam anymore. And here they were, lying next to each other _in bed_, and Blaine would never be able to...

And Jesus, now he was crying. Right in front of Sam, who he was probably freaking out. And he couldn't even tell him why he was crying because even if he knew what to say he was crying too hard to speak.

Sam turned on his side and awkwardly patted Blaine's shoulder. "It's okay. Hey, whatever it is it's gonna be all right."

This just made Blaine cry harder, because it _wasn't_ going to be all right. Sam didn't try talking to him anymore until he stopped crying, he just kept patting his shoulder. When he had stopped and was breathing more or less normally again, Sam asked if he wanted to talk about it. Blaine shook his head. He wasn't crying now, but that didn't mean he could speak without starting again.

"Well, you wanna hear what you missed around here, then?"

Blaine nodded.

"Puck is probably expelled."

**April 11, 2011**

Tina just thought Rachel was being dramatic. Well, Rachel _was_ being dramatic, but she was also right. When Rachel had finally gotten a text from Puck, she found out that he had _not_ made it back to the boys' dorm before room checks, that he'd had to get Max to let him in, that Max could tell he was drunk and checked the room and found his mostly empty rum bottle.

He'd been sent home for the weekend, and today he and his mom were coming back for the hearing to determine if he would be expelled. No one had been expelled yet. April Wells had not returned to school after her suspension, but that was because her parents pulled her out. But although it was unprecedented, Puck getting expelled seemed a foregone conclusion to all the students.

So Tina was dealing with Rachel freaking out and also with Sam freaking out; he apparently felt like he should have been able to stop Puck from getting caught somehow. Even Blaine seemed like he was kind of freaking out, which made no sense at all. He hadn't even been in town for the incident, and he had never been especially close with Puck.

Scott wasn't freaking out—Tina would be surprised to see him freak out about anything, actually—but he did seem affected by it. He and Tina were walking around the building after dinner when they heard the confirmation that Puck had been expelled, that he and his mother were packing up his things and he had until seven o'clock to be off campus. "This school isn't going to have anyone left if it keeps treating kids this way," Scott said. "There'll be a graduating class of about six."

"But just think what an honor it would be to be one of those six," Tina said.

"It would be a very elite and exclusive group," he agreed.

Tina thought about who the six kids might be. Blaine would be one, for sure; he was going to sail through this school totally unscathed.

Scott _could_ be one of the six. School was easy enough for him and he was super smart and talented. (And cool and funny and good-looking, which made his interest in Tina totally baffling.) But he had told Tina that he and Cody sometimes smoked cigarettes and stole stuff from unlocked cars—the way he'd explained it to Tina was that they decided they couldn't judge stuff they'd never tried—so either of those activities could obviously cause a problem.

Tina would never make it into the top six. She was going to be lucky to not flunk out after this semester. Seriously, she was so behind in every single class except calculus, and she barely understood a word her Spanish teacher said lately, and she had no artistic talent whatsoever and her projects were always the most hideous in the class and why the fuck had she even thought art would be something she could do in the first place?

She didn't say any of this to Scott, though. He didn't seem to have any idea what a loser she was, and she didn't want to be the one to tell him. And she certainly didn't want him to think she was "fishing for compliments" like Santana had accused her of.

"I hope Rachel's not freaking out too bad," she said.

"About Puck? Why would _Rachel_ be freaking out?"

"Okay, well I don't think she wants anyone to know, but..." And she proceeded to tell him everything she knew. It wasn't like it was a totally secure secret anyway: she wasn't the _only_ person who knew that Rachel had been there drinking...and doing other stuff...with Puck. Ellen knew, at least about the drinking. Sam knew about both, which meant that Blaine knew about both. Tina knew Sam had spilled because when she started to tell Blaine about it, he already knew. She concluded her story by saying, "So I guess I'll probably hang around the room after dorm checks and make sure she's all right."

But Rachel made it very clear that she did not want Tina hanging around. Her exact words were, "I can never face anybody ever again, why can't you just leave me alone!?" So Tina grabbed some books, shut her laptop, and took everything to the lounge. She had just been reading an e-mail from the administration about roommate matching forms being due soon. She knew one person she would _not_ be requesting to room with!

Sam was reading the same e-mail. There was a form where you could either list the name of the person you wanted to room with or you could ask for the school to match you with someone and then you had to answer the neat-or-messy question and the night-person-or-morning-person question. Sam typed in Blaine's name and hit submit.

He looked at Blaine and said, "Don't forget to do your roommate form. If you don't put me on yours they'll think I'm some kind of crazy stalker and they'll put us far apart."

Blaine was speechless. He set the homework he'd been working on down on the bed, but he didn't look at Sam.

"Shit," Sam said. "You don't want to be roommates again, do you? I'm sorry, I should've—"

"No, I _do _want to be roommates again. I just...there's something I haven't told you yet."

"Well, what is it, dude? It can't be that bad." Blaine was silent again, and he still wasn't looking up. Sam walked from his desk over to Blaine's bed and sat next to him. "Is it that I have BO or something and you don't know how to tell me?" He sniffed his own armpits, which at least got a chuckle from Blaine. That was good, he didn't like to see Blaine upset. And as soon as he'd said it he worried that maybe he did have BO, so he felt better after checking.

"No, I said I do want to be roommates again. If you had BO I would've asked to be moved a long time ago."

"So then...?"

"I'm...probably not coming back in the fall."

"What!? Dude, how could you be thinking of not coming back? I thought you liked it here!"

"I do like it here. I want to come back! My dad got this job offer out of state..." He spit out as much of the story as he could without starting to cry.

Sam didn't totally understand everything—it wasn't the most coherent speech Blaine had ever given—but he understood the main thing. "He can't take it then! He can't take it and make you leave!"

"Pretty sure he's going to, though," Blaine said quietly.

"No!" Sam took out his phone. "What's his number?"

"It won't do any good. I'm not giving you his number."

"Fine," Sam said. He opened Google and started searching. Unfortunately there are many, many William Andersons. "Tell me his middle name or something at least."

"No." His father would not be amused by getting yelled at by some teenage friend of his son. Or maybe he would be amused, but amused wasn't a reaction that was going to be very helpful. "And anyway our number isn't listed."

"Come on, Blaine! If you're not going to tell him—"

"What makes you think I didn't tell him? I did nothing but practically beg him not to do it. Cooper too. If he's not going to listen to us, what makes you think he's going to listen to you?"

"I have to at least try." Blaine still didn't give him the number; in fact, he didn't say anything. Sam went back to his Google search and added "Kent State University" and "psychology." He found a faculty listing, with a picture of Blaine's dad and everything so he knew he had the right guy. "Ha!"

Blaine looked over at the screen. "You're not going to call his work number?"

"Damn right I am," Sam said, punching in the numbers. But then he panicked and hung up. What the hell was he going to say? But he had to say something, so he tried again. He got voicemail, which was good because if he'd gotten Blaine's dad, live, he probably wouldn't have been able to say anything at all.

What he did manage to say didn't come out sounding very impressive. "Hi, Mr. Anderson...uh, Dr. Anderson...Professor Anderson..." He'd always just called him Mr., but maybe since he was calling his office at the university it would be different? Maybe he should've been calling him something else all this time? "This is, uh, Sam Evans, Blaine's friend? Blaine was telling me about the job you're thinking about taking in Pennsylvania, and, uh, it sounds really great, and I know it's none of my business, but, you know, I really think you should consider, like, not taking it now and maybe reapplying in a couple years after Blaine has graduated? Because...Blaine really likes it here at OHIO—the school, I mean, but also the state, too, I guess—and it would just be..." He stopped himself from saying _unfair_. That was a word parents seemed to universally hate. Even though it would be totally unfair. "It would just be really unfortunate for Blaine to have to leave here and go back to a regular school when he's such a great singer and dancer and the classes here are really interesting and challenging for him and besides he has a lot of friends here who would miss him and I think he'd miss us, them too. But, uh, mostly the academic stuff. Anyway, sorry if this was, like, rude or anything but...well, anyway, thanks." He hung up and went back to sit next to Blaine again.

"Your father's going to think I'm a rambling lunatic."

"That was probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," Blaine said. He let his head fall onto Sam's shoulder. "Thank you."

"You're welcome...if I didn't make things worse. Anyway, it wasn't totally for you. I don't think I could stand this place if you left. Besides, if both my roommates leave, I'll get paranoid that I'm driving you guys away."

**April 13, 2011**

"Tina, isn't Rachel coming?" Rachel had never missed a single glee practice, even that time she was sick and had to run outside and puke in the middle of a song.

"She's..." Tina felt bad enough about blabbing to Scott; she didn't want to say anything in front of the whole glee club.

"I'm here," Rachel said, walking slowly to her seat. She was pale and quieter than anyone could remember seeing her.

"Okay," Mr. Schuester said. "We need to talk about next year. There are way too many phenomenal singers at this school for us to have such a small club. Judges are impressed by volume and numbers. We need to get serious about recruitment. And not just singers. We need dancers. If anything we need dancers even more than singers. It's easier to pass off a dancer who can't sing than a singer who can't dance."

Brittany and Jeb were enlisted to talk to all the dancers they could. Kurt stood up. "There's no reason for glee and the...the unofficial boys' a cappella group—"

"The Gay Men's Chorus?" Santana asked.

"...the as-yet unnamed a cappella group," Kurt continued, "to be two separate groups. All the songs the informal group does could easily be show choir numbers."

"That's the kind of thinking we need, Kurt!" Mr. Schue said. "Blaine? Jeff? What do you think?" First he looked at Blaine, who only managed to shrug.

"I think it would really help us," Jeff said. "No offense, but the GMC is actually way better than glee." This comment earned him a chorus of boos from everyone except Kurt...well, and Blaine, but only because he didn't care anymore.

When the booing subsided, Kurt said, "I've actually already spoken to Wes. He's willing to negotiate."

Tina didn't go to dinner with Sam and Blaine after practice. She said that Pauline had asked her to walk to North Plaza with her and Brooke and Ellen. Jeff did tag along with them, however. And he was flirting with Sam and really kind of pissing Blaine off.

Like, he was actually poking him in the side. Who even does that? And he was smiling at him all cutely and trying to talk him into joining the GMC.

"But what would be the point of joining if it's probably going to merge with glee anyway?" Sam asked. A totally reasonable question, by the way.

"Because we'd like to have you."

"Well, Sam doesn't want to have _you_!" Oh fuck, that was really loud. Now everyone in line was staring at them.

"Blaine, are you okay, dude?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. He was far too intent on watching the mashed potatoes get slopped on his plate to look at anyone.

They found a table, and Sam and Jeff watched him with concerned expressions. Well, Jeff's was smarmy fake concern, but Sam's looked genuine. "Blaine's really upset because..." Sam started. Blaine looked at him pleadingly and shook his head. He didn't want anyone to know he wouldn't be back in the fall—he hadn't even told Tina yet. And Jeff was literally the last person who he wanted to know.

"I know why he's upset," Jeff said. The quietly, he asked, "Did you tell him?"

"Tell me what!?"

"Tell him what?" Sam echoed.

"About how we...Sam, I really think you owe it to Blaine to tell him. I don't think you realize it, but he...Blaine, I'm sorry, I know you said it's not true, but you do have a crush on Sam. So you should know that we..."

No. No, no, no. This was not happening. Jeff did not just tell Sam about Blaine's crush. And even worse: he should know that they...what!? But he couldn't stick around to find out. "Would you guys excuse me please? I need to..." He walked out of the cafeteria, he forced himself not to run until he was out of sight. And then...fuck, he wished he could think of someplace better to run to than the dorm room. But he couldn't, so that's where he went. He locked himself in the bathroom and sat on the floor, leaning against the door.

It was kind of gross in there. It was Sam's turn to clean, but it looked like Blaine was going to end up having to do it again.

He heard the bedroom door open outside. "Blaine?" Sam called. Blaine sat as still and quietly as he could. Sam let the door shut and went back out into the hall.

If only it weren't for dorm checks at seven Blaine could just stay in the bathroom all evening. Maybe he could sneak down to the RC office, make sure Sam wasn't around, sign out like he was going to North Plaza or somewhere, then sneak back up and hide out until just before eleven. And by then Sam might have forgotten about everything.

Before he even had time to realize what a stupid plan that was, Sam was back in the room. "Blaine?" he called again. Blaine stayed silent. Sam was quiet too; Blaine couldn't tell what he was doing out there, and then...shit, Blaine's phone was ringing. It was Sam calling. "Blaine?" he asked again, this time knocking on the bathroom door.

"Just a second," Blaine said. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. He forced himself to walk out as if nothing were wrong. "All yours," he said.

Sam stood by the bathroom door, trying to catch his eye. "Blaine..."

"So, uh." Blaine sat at his desk, back to Sam, and opened his laptop. "What was it Jeff thought you should tell me?"

"He...Do you really have a crush on me?"

"I asked you first."

"Yeah, but...but the only reason Jeff thinks I should tell you is that he thinks you have a crush on me. If you don't, then it doesn't matter."

Blaine stared straight at his screen. Maybe he should just admit it. They'd only have...not even two months of having to live together in horrible awkwardness. Maybe not even that: there was a newly vacant room right next door that one of them could move into. And he had been stalling so long that Sam had undoubtedly guessed the answer anyway. Still...

"Blaine?" Sam's voice wasn't coming from where Blaine expected it to come from; he looked around and saw that Sam was sitting on the lower bunk now. "Would it help if I told you that..." He played with a loose thread on his jeans for a minute. "Would it help if I told you that I think I have one on you?"

"Why would you tell me that?"

Sam laughed nervously. "Because I think I have a crush on you." He looked up at Blaine and added, "Duh."


	21. Pistachios

**April 13, 2011 (Continued)**

"Blaine?" Sam pulled off the thread he'd been playing with. "Please say something."

"I..." Blaine shut his laptop and looked at him. "What do you mean you think?"

"Well... Could you come over here? I feel weird yelling across the room at you."

It was a small room, there was absolutely no need to yell. But Blaine walked to the bed and sat on top of his pillows. Sam was at the foot of the bed; Blaine didn't want to touch him accidentally. "What do you mean you think?" he repeated.

"So, like..." Sam pulled his feet up and sat cross-legged, facing Blaine. He really shouldn't be saying anything without being sure, but if Jeff was right and Blaine felt the same way... And if Blaine probably wouldn't even be there in the fall, waiting until he was sure could be a huge mistake. Besides, he'd already said enough that he may as well just shoot his whole wad. Verbally. "So, like, I just thought we were good friends. And we are, right?"

"Yeah, totally."

"And, so..." He focused on a hole that was developing in his sock while he blurted out:  
"I really like you a lot, which, we're friends so it makes sense. I mean, most people like their friends, right, or they wouldn't be friends. And then I thought, like, wow, Sam, you're getting a man crush. You know, like, a crush on a dude but totally, like, asexual?"

"Oh. Yeah."

That sock hole was getting bigger. Probably because he kept playing with it. He took a deep breath and continued spilling his guts: "Except, if you kind of think, like...if you kind of keep wondering what it would be like to kiss someone, and if, you know, if you think it's something you'd like to do, then that's probably not totally asexual, right?"

"So, you...?"

"But then, how do you know if you're just _wondering_, like, you know, how you might wonder what pistachio ice cream tastes like if you've never tried it, or if you really _want _pistachio ice cream because, like, even though you've never tried it, it looks really, really good. And maybe it even smells really good...I mean, ice cream doesn't really have a smell, I guess, but maybe like some kind of cookie you've never tried—like, I don't know, are pistachio cookies a thing? And anyway it doesn't have to be pistachio—and they're still in the oven and they smell really good and you're just really hungry all of a sudden... So then, I mean, that's kind of why I kissed Jeff."

"Wait." Did Sam just go from pistachios to saying he... "You _kissed_ Jeff!? You kissed _Jeff_!?"

"Yeah, it was his idea, actually."

"I bet."

"No, really. We were talking, and I told him I thought I had a crush on you, and he asked—"

"So you told _Jeff_? He knew?" Fucking bastard.

"Well, I didn't want to tell _you _yet because I thought it would be awkward, which it totally is, by the way, because you still haven't said if you..."

"I do," Blaine whispered.

"Oh, thank God," Sam said, leaning back against the bedpost and looking at Blaine, finally. "I thought I was gonna have to hurl myself out the window just to avoid dying of embarrassment."

"Don't hurl yourself out the window," Blaine said. Now, Jeff, on the other hand, he might not mind seeing defenestrated. Preferably from a building taller than two stories.

"So..."

"Yeah."

"You wanna, like...try going out or something?"

"Like what? Walk around the school together?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I guess that seems kinda stupid."

"Do you want to...I mean, you've already...but I never have..."

"Yeah. I think we should. I mean, I assume you mean kiss, right?"

Blaine tried to say "right" but couldn't seem to make any sound. So he nodded. And peeked over at Sam. And caught Sam peeking at him. He smiled, and Sam smiled back at him.

"I'm gonna go brush my teeth," Sam said, standing up.

Blaine stood up too. "Good idea."

They stood side by side at the bathroom sink, brushing their teeth and looking at each other in the mirror. They kept brushing for way longer than either of them usually brushed, just because neither one wanted to be the first one to stop and then end up with less-fresh breath than the other. They didn't stop, in fact, until they both got the giggles so bad that they had to spit just to avoid inhaling a bunch of toothpaste foam.

Sam's lips weren't quite wiped clean of toothpaste when they were met by Blaine's. Since they'd actually been preparing for it, Sam didn't expect for the actual kiss to take him by surprise, but there it was, almost as if out of nowhere. But at the same time, as if it were something he'd been waiting for for way too long.

It wasn't shy—it should have been a shy, tentative kiss, but it wasn't. It was like Blaine knew exactly what he wanted and he was going for it. Sam: Blaine wanted Sam. Starting with his lips. His lips that, let's face it, were gorgeous. They felt as soft and warm as they looked.

Sam was pushed against the bathroom door. Not violently, not painfully, but definitely firmly. Firmly enough that he couldn't back away from Blaine...not that he wanted to. Blaine's tongue pushed its way into Sam's mouth, and Sam tried to pull it in farther.

Blaine...now that he was kissing Sam he didn't think he'd ever be able to stop. Sam was letting him, Sam was kissing him back! He hadn't even...he hadn't even considered this a possibility. And yet here they were. He was pushing too hard, he knew he had to calm down and back off, but...but...

And sure enough, Sam was pulling his head away. "Blaine?" God damn it, Blaine shouldn't have... "Blaine, can we move? The doorknob's digging into my back."

"Sorry!" He stepped back to let Sam move away from the door. "Yeah, let's move. You wanna move to..." He knew, even before the words left his mouth, that it was a horrible, stupid thing to say. But somehow that knowledge didn't stop him, and he said, "You wanna move to the bed?"

"Oh. Uh..." Sam's one and only time making out on a bed had not ended well. And this time had the potential to be way worse. He was...Jesus, he was already hard, and that was from no direct contact at all. None. He'd been very careful. But if they were on the bed, where there might be, like, rolling around... And God knew it never took long to get set off even just by his own hand. And then Blaine would see what a disgusting perv he was, so...

"Sorry," Blaine said. "I shouldn't have suggested..."

"It's okay, it's just..."

"It's probably almost time for checks, anyway." Blaine checked the time; it was about twenty to seven. "I think I'll just...I'm gonna go down to the lounge now and, like, make some popcorn. Do you...do you want some?"

"No thanks. I'll be down in a little while." Sam felt terrible about chasing Blaine away. But, on the other hand, it did give him the room to himself for a few minutes. Which was more than enough time to take care of the situation that had arisen.

**April 14, 2011**

Tina was pretty pleased with herself for not oversleeping for once. She'd been late to English pretty much every day for the last couple weeks, but today she was up and dressed and in the cafeteria in time for breakfast even.

Mainly she was eager to see people's reaction to her hair. She and Pauline and Ellen and Brooke had all colored their hair the night before when they got back from North Plaza. Ellen and Pauline, both brunettes, had just added some highlights: blonde for Ellen and reddish for Pauline. Brooke, who naturally had very light blonde hair, had gone jet black and looked awesome. Except for a few smudges on her forehead and neck where they hadn't spread quite enough Vaseline, but those would wear off eventually.

Tina had colored the least total amount of hair—she had only done one streak in the front—but hers had taken the most time. Her hair was naturally so dark that they had to bleach it first. And in fact the first bleaching had only turned it a sort of hideously unnatural shade of orange, so they bleached it a second time. Then they applied the "electric lizard" green dye, and it looked really amazing if Tina did say so herself. Also it supposedly glowed under black light, but since no one had a black light she hadn't been able to check that out yet.

She got some eggs and English muffins and a grapefruit half and joined Brooke, who was at a table with Kurt. "Tina!" Kurt gushed. "So dramatic!"

"Thanks! And how about our goth girl Brooke?" Brooke had never had an especially goth look, or any special look at all. She wore jeans and t-shirts and hoodies mostly. Which she was also wearing today, except they were all black. And she even had makeup on, which she usually never wore and must have borrowed from Ellen: black eyeliner and red lipstick.

"I was just commenting that she looks like an even prettier Edward." Kurt was kind of into _Twilight_. "So Brooke was telling me that you two are going to be roommates next year?"

"Not exactly," Tina said. "Brooke already has a cool roommate, so she and Ellen are going to stay together next year. Pauline and I just asked to be in the room next to theirs." Tina was so relieved just to have someone lined up for next year—someone she actually liked and could get along with. She did like Brooke a little more than she liked Pauline, but since Brooke and Ellen already liked each other as roommates, it made more sense for Tina to room with Pauline.

"Well, I have already had my roommate request denied," Kurt said.

"What!?" Tina and Brooke both said. OHIO had never denied a roommate request, not that Tina had heard of, and she couldn't imagine why they would. Unless... "You didn't ask to room with a girl, did you?" She was mostly joking, but she seriously couldn't think of another reason.

"Worse," Kurt said. "A gay boy." For all the school's tolerance and celebration of diversity and shit, apparently they drew the line at letting two gay kids share a room. "Even though Jeff and I totally aren't interested in each other and I even already have a boyfriend," Kurt said. "And Jeff...well, you probably know, Tina."

Brooke looked at her quizzically and Tina shrugged. She had no idea what Kurt thought she knew about Jeff. Ignoring that, she asked, "You have a boyfriend, Kurt?"

Blaine was walking toward their table and Tina waved him over. He sat down, and she said, "Well, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About Tina and Brooke's hair, silly," Kurt said.

"Oh. Wow."

"Geez, try to contain your excitement," Tina said. "Kurt was just about to tell us about his boyfriend. Or do you already know?"

"No," Blaine said. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"His name's Dave," Kurt said. "Not David Thompson. He doesn't go here, he goes to Lima High."

"So you've been together since freshman year?" Blaine asked. It was weird that he'd never mentioned a boyfriend. Not that he and Kurt were that close, but it did seem like the kind of thing Kurt would have mentioned.

"No, we only met up again recently. Last year we were... Well, he's not totally out of the closet yet, at Lima High. If I still went there I'm sure we wouldn't even be friends, probably."

"Bring him by sometime," Blaine said. "Bring him to a GMC practice or something."

Kurt coughed out a small piece of toast. "Tina, tell us about you and Scott."

"Yeah," Blaine said. "Are you guys going out, or...?" It was weird because they seemed to hang out a lot and they even walked around the building together. But Tina _never _talked about him. If Blaine had a boyfriend he would be talking about him all the time. In fact, he had really wanted to catch Tina alone...

"I don't know," Tina said. "Maybe?" She honestly had no idea. It seemed to be the general impression of anyone who noticed them together that they were going out, but neither one of them had ever actually said anything to that effect. And they certainly hadn't kissed or even touched, really. So she was hesitant to say that they were going out, in case it would get back to Scott and he didn't think they were. "So...Blaine, you and Sam are rooming together again next year, right?"

"Uh..." He still hadn't told Tina about his dad's new job. He'd hear officially tonight, so he guessed he might as well wait.

"Well, you can't room with me!" Kurt said.

XOXOXO

Blaine was trying to watch this movie on his laptop, _Babette's Feast_, for his French class. It wasn't even a French movie, it was Dutch or something. And it was so boring. Even if he'd been able to concentrate he doubted very much that he would have wanted to.

Sam came into the room and pulled his chair over to Blaine's desk. "What are we watching?"

"A bunch of weirdly uptight religious people. And I guess there's gonna be a feast at some point. I have to write a paper about it. Want me to put headphones on?"

"No. I'll watch it with you, if you don't mind." He scooted his chair closer so their shoulders were touching. "You haven't heard yet?"

Blaine shook his head and tried to watch the movie. Or, at least, he tried to look like he was watching the movie. But he and Sam hadn't really talked about last night yet, so...

"I still don't understand why you kissed Jeff," Blaine said, not looking away from the screen.

"Well, like the ice cream or the cookies or whatever..."

"That doesn't actually tell me anything." He glanced over quickly. Sam was looking at the screen too. "I mean, if you like Jeff, you should—"

"Of course I don't like Jeff. I mean, I like him. It was really nice of him to offer to... But I mean I don't _like_ him. Like...okay. Let me see if I can explain it better than I did last night."

Blaine nodded and paused the movie. He turned his chair a little so he could look at Sam.

"So I thought I had a crush on you, but it didn't make any sense because I didn't think I was gay. So I had to find out if maybe I was and I just didn't realize it."

"So you were just like, 'Hey Jeff, let me kiss you and find out if I'm gay'?"

"No. That would be incredibly rude and thoughtless. It was his idea."

"So you said, 'I think I have a crush on Blaine but I don't know if I'm gay'? And he said, 'Well, why don't you kiss me and find out'?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Like that."

Fucking Jeff. And poor Sam had no idea what he was up to. Blaine should have told him as soon as he found out. "And so...you liked it?"

"Not as much as..." Sam looked at the floor and blushed. "Not as much as I liked kissing you yesterday."

Blaine reached over and took Sam's hand. "I liked that too. In fact...I think we should do it again."

"I think we should do it, like, all the time," Sam said, momentarily forgetting—or maybe just not caring—about the awkward problem that could cause. He leaned forward in his chair, and Blaine leaned forward to meet him. Their lips touched, and it felt just as good as yesterday.

Blaine was putting his hands on Sam's shoulders, about to pull him closer, when his fucking phone rang. It was his dad. "Dad?" He stood up and walked across the room.

"Hello, Blaine. I told you I'd call after I'd given Penn State my answer. Is this a good time for you to talk?"

No, not really. But, then, he did desperately need to know the answer. Even if it was bad news, which he was 99 percent sure it would be. "Yeah. Sure."

"I have accepted the job."

"Uh huh. Well, thanks, dad. You've ruined my life, so, you know, thanks for letting me know."

"Blaine, don't be so dramatic."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry if my being upset that you've _ruined_ my _life_ is annoying to you. Gee, I'll try to be more considerate in the future."

"Will you let me speak, please?"

"Sure. Speak all you fucking want. I'm just not going to listen to it." He hung up. As he expected, it rang again a second later. Not answering his dad's call—after swearing at and hanging up on him—was actually kind of terrifying. But what the fuck _else_ was he going to do to Blaine? A minute later he got a text: "Blaine Devon Anderson do not act so immature. Call me immediately." He threw the fucking phone across the room. It sounded like the screen may have cracked, but he didn't even fucking care.

He didn't realize until Sam put his arms around him that he was shaking. "He didn't..." Sam started. "Please tell me he didn't..." Blaine didn't answer. He didn't need to answer, he wouldn't be sobbing into Sam's shoulder if it were good news. "It's okay, Blaine. You'll probably like Pennsylvania. Everyone likes you, you'll make tons of new friends..."

"I don't want new friends. I wanna stay here with you."

Sam wanted that too. He didn't know what else to say, so he held Blaine tighter and kissed him. He kissed the top of his head, his temples, his cheeks. Blaine caught his mouth with his, pried his lips open with his tongue. He pushed Sam toward the bed, and Sam didn't object. Not until they were lying on the lower bunk and Blaine rolled on top of him. "Blaine, wait..."

Blaine stopped kissing him, but he didn't get off. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just got carried away. We have so little time..."

"It's not that I don't want to. I do, really bad. It's just that.." He wasn't quite sure how to explain his problem. He rolled out from under Blaine and took his hand. He moved it toward his...problem, and...oh Jesus, why did he think that was a good idea? Blaine's hand touching it just made it _way _harder, and he was pretty sure there was already a little leakage.

"Oh my God, Sam." Blaine couldn't believe Sam was letting him..._wanted_ him, even...to touch his dick. And even just touching it through his jeans made Sam gasp and bite his lip. "Can I...?" he asked as he started unbuttoning.

"Blaine..." Blaine touching him felt _really_ good, and Sam _really_ didn't want him to stop. But he needed to at least warn him. "If you...I mean, I'll probably..."

"Sam, is this gonna make you come?"

"Yeah," he gasped. "I'm sorry. I just don't think I'll be able to help it if you don't stop."

"Why are you sorry? I'd love to see you come." The come shot was his favorite thing in porn. Sometimes he'd just fast forward to that moment. He liked it most when he could see the guy's dick _and _his face. And if it was Sam, and if he was the one who caused it...Fuck, now Blaine was about ready to come. "Can I?" he asked again, his hand hovering over Sam's fly.

Sam didn't answer, but he pressed his crotch against Blaine's hand, which Blaine took as a yes. He unbuttoned and unzipped and pulled Sam's jeans down to his knees, along with his underwear. His cock was so perfect, Blaine was almost afraid to touch it. Like by touching it he'd mar it. But Sam was squirming, like he really wanted Blaine to touch it, and Blaine really wanted to. So...lightly, with just the tips of his fingers...

"Blaine..." Sam whined. "I thought you wanted to...you're barely..." Blaine was barely touching him. His hand felt so much better than Sam's own, or it would, he knew, except he could barely feel it. He lifted his hips, rubbed against Blaine's hand. "Oh fuck, that's better."

Blaine wrapped his fingers around it and held it. "Please, Blaine," Sam whispered. He knew he sounded desperate. He fucking was desperate. Blaine tightened his grip and gave a few firm tugs. That was all it took.

Sam's orgasm was amazing—way better than any Blaine had seen online. His cock swelled up and turned dark red. Blaine could actually feel the liquid coursing through on the way to its release. And when it shot out it was so thick and warm and gooey. And Sam's face—his cheeks got splotches the same deep red shade as his dick. He scrunched his eyebrows and bit his lip like he was concentrating hard. The sounds he made were completely animal and not at all self-conscious. He dug his fingers into Blaine's shoulders, and as the last drops of his come left him, he pulled Blaine in for a kiss.

Sam kissed Blaine and then went limp under him. "Blaine, that was so awesome." He was so content and his whole body felt so heavy and relaxed, like he couldn't move if he wanted to. He was vaguely aware that he should return the favor, but, like, he didn't know what to do. He was into Blaine, he knew that, but the thought of, like, touching his dick...especially since he was so satisfied already...it seemed more weird than appealing at the moment.

Blaine was still kissing him, grabbing his hair, sucking on his neck. Straddling him, grinding against his stomach. He didn't mind lying there and letting Blaine do what he needed to do. Although the neck stuff did tickle a little, and he wasn't sure how he'd feel about getting another guy's spunk on his clothes... But what Blaine had done for him had been so incredible, it seemed like the least he could do. "Do you wanna take your pants off?" he suggested.

Very much. Blaine wanted very much to take his pants off, and he was so glad Sam said something, because he wouldn't have known how to ask. He pulled them off, and his underwear, dropped them on the floor, and resumed his position atop Sam. He pushed Sam's t-shirt up so he was rubbing against him skin-on-skin. It felt so amazing, Sam's hard abs, his soft, warm skin. If only... "Sam, could you, like..." Sam grabbed his ass, urged his movements along. Oh, it was perfect. "Fuck, Sam. Oh fuck. Sam...Sam...I'm gonna come."

"Okay." Sam closed his eyes and pulled Blaine harder against him.

Blaine tightened his grip on Sam's arms and thrust against him hard and fast. He went "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." while he shot his load, all wet and sticky, onto Sam's skin and shirt. When he was done, he collapsed onto Sam's chest, right on his own wet spot. Sam rolled him off gently, took his shirt off, and cleaned their mingled come off both of them. He dropped the shirt on the floor with Blaine's pants, then removed his own from around his knees and added them to the pile. If he weren't still all relaxed and groggy he might have tried to cover up somehow instead of just lying there naked with Blaine on top of Blaine's comforter. But, well, he'd deal with that awkwardness when they woke up.


	22. Fathers Being Assholes

**April 15, 2011**

Blaine's alarm went off at six o'clock, as usual. If he'd remembered for a second that it was still set he would have turned it off.

He and Sam had barely left the bed since they got into it—which was not to say they had slept much. They were interrupted at eleven by Scott knocking for room checks—luckily Blaine was able to run into the bathroom in time to wrap a towel around his waist before Scott got suspicious about why they weren't answering. And Sam just got under Blaine's sheets and pretended to be asleep.

After Scott marked them present and went on to the next room, Blaine took the occasion of being out of bed as an opportunity to turn off his fucking phone, which had been going off every so often. He didn't look at any of the messages even. He did note that he had, in fact, cracked the screen, which he guessed he was just going to have to live with: his parents were probably way too pissed to even consider getting him a new one. But whatever, because he was pretty pissed at them too.

Blaine turned off the alarm and snuggled in closer. "Hey, Sam," he said. "I have an awesome idea."

"What's that?" Sam asked, still half-asleep.

"Let's skip all our classes and stay in bed all day."

"I can't," Sam said. "If my grades fall..." He trailed off before adding, "I won't get to come back next year." It was bad enough that he'd reminded Blaine of next year at all—not that either of them could forget it.

"How about if we just skip first period?" Blaine rolled toward Sam and put his knee up on his hip.

First period was when Sam had geometry. Of all the classes he shouldn't skip... But he could feel that Blaine was hard—as was he—and after two times of being scared to touch Blaine's dick last night, he had discovered on the third time that he kind of liked it. The trick was to do it _before_ Blaine made him come. "How about if you wear a hat or something so you don't have to spend an hour styling your hair?"

XOXOXO

Blaine was exhausted and sweaty and gross after dance, his last class of the day. His hair felt disgusting, and he had never gotten used to having Sam's Indians' ball cap on his head all day. He didn't shower in the locker room, though. He was hoping Sam would be in the room and that they could hop in the shower together.

He did not make it back to his room, however. His father was standing outside the dance studio looking extremely pissed.

"Dad!"

"Are your laptop and your books in there?" his father asked, gesturing toward Blaine's bag.

"Yes."

"Good, then we don't have to go back to your dorm. I've already signed you out for the weekend."

"Dad, I—"

His father stepped closer to him. "Blaine, have I ever yelled at you in public?"

"No."

"If you'd like to keep it that way, then I'd suggest you not try to talk to me until we're in the car."

Sam was sitting on Blaine's bed, waiting for him to come back to the room. They hadn't actually planned or even really talked about meeting back there as soon as classes were over. He had just thought...

He was being stupid. Last period had only been over for like ten minutes. And anyway Blaine's last class was dance. He was probably showering or something. Not that Sam would've minded helping him with that...

Sam decided he would shower too. If he finished before Blaine got back, then he'd be all nice and clean. And if he didn't, then maybe Blaine would be willing to help him finish.

Blaine sat silently in the car next to his father and waited. And waited. He tried not to fidget with Sam's ball cap or inhale his own stink. He pulled his phone out to text Sam, and his dad glanced over at it.

"So your phone works?"

"Uh, yeah."

"How'd it get that crack?"

Blaine slid the phone back into his pocket without turning it on. "I think I dropped it," he murmured.

"Mm-hmm," his dad said as he merged onto the interstate.

Sam had showered and changed and brushed his teeth, and Blaine still wasn't there. He texted, "Hey Blaine want to hang out in the room? ;)"

When Blaine didn't reply he started to get worried. Were things awkward between them? Sam thought if anyone should be freaking out it should be him, as the supposedly non-gay one. But maybe he had offended Blaine somehow, or...? Maybe Blaine had picked up on how he was uncomfortable touching him, even though he wasn't as much anymore? Or maybe he just wasn't very good at it? Maybe now that Blaine had seen him more close up he found him physically unappealing?

He tried to calm down. Blaine wasn't under any obligation to go straight to the room at the end of the day. In fact he usually didn't, so it probably didn't mean anything that he wasn't here now. He did usually answer Sam's texts, but... Well, maybe he'd never turned his phone back on after last night. That was probably it, in fact. There was nothing to worry about. Unless there was.

Other than their brief conversation about the phone, Blaine's dad hadn't said a word, even though they'd been in the car for close to an hour. Blaine couldn't take it anymore. "Dad?"

"Blaine, I have literally never been more furious with you."

"Well, how did you expect me to react?"

"I expected you to have a civil conversation with me and act like an adult."

"Well, I'm not an adult, now am I?" Blaine snapped.

"No," his father conceded.

"Because if I were, you wouldn't be able to just fuck up my life any time you wanted to."

His dad pulled over on the side of the road and stopped the car abruptly, just this side of slamming on the brake. "Now you listen to me. Just because you're not an adult yet doesn't mean it's acceptable for you to act like a spoiled toddler. Can you even hear yourself?"

He waited. Apparently it wasn't a rhetorical question. "Of course I can hear myself. My ears are still working, aren't they?"

"Are they? I wonder. If they are, maybe you'd like to try listening to me for a minute."

"Fine." Blaine crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat, looking straight ahead into an expanse of road and empty fields. "I'm all ears."

"No." His dad started the car up again and pulled back onto the road. "We'll talk when you're ready to listen like a fifteen-year-old and not a five-year-old."

Blaine did not appreciate being condescended to. And yeah, maybe he wasn't acting his most mature at the moment, but he had a pretty good reason. Besides, he _was_ fifteen, and so if this was how he was acting now, then by definition he was acting like a fifteen-year-old. So his dad could just go fuck himself.

He didn't say a God damn word for the rest of the drive home, and neither did his father.

Sam was really starting to worry when he hadn't seen or heard from Blaine all evening and he wasn't there for dorm checks. Either Blaine was intentionally avoiding him or something bad had happened to him. Then Scott didn't seem worried that he wasn't there, which meant he must have signed out, which seemed to support the Blaine-was-avoiding-him theory. He was about to ask Scott where he'd signed out for when _finally_ his phone rang and it was Blaine.

"Where are you!?"

"I'm at home! My dad just showed up at school and he's super pissed and he was like, 'I'm taking you home for the weekend' and he's barely said a word to me and he wouldn't let me call you even..." There were more words, but Sam couldn't decipher them through the crying.

"Blaine, Blaine...Shh, shh, shh. It's okay. Your dad doesn't, like, ever..."

"Hit me?"

"Does he?"

"No!"

"Okay, so you're safe, then, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Good. He's not, like, pulling you out of school _now_, is he?"

"I don't think...oh, God, I don't know! I _hope_ not! He didn't say he was, but he hardly said anything—"

"Okay, I'm sure he's not. I don't even know what I was thinking when I asked that. Obviously he's not because he didn't pack up any of your stuff. I've been in the room pretty much all evening and I would have noticed if anything was gone."

"Right. Okay." Sam could hear Blaine calming down a little. He was barely crying anymore. "He didn't even let me go back to the room to pack clothes for the weekend."

"See? So it's okay. No matter how big a dick he is to you this weekend, you'll be back here soon. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Call me anytime you need to, okay? I don't have to sleep or anything."

"Thanks, Sam. If I do call, it probably _will_ be in the middle of the night. The phone's sort of a sore spot with my dad right now, so I'm probably gonna have it off. In fact, could you tell Tina...well, just tell her something. There's a message from her and I haven't even had a chance to listen to it yet and now my mom's calling me for dinner—"

"Sure. Go eat, I'll tell her. Good luck."

Tina was walking around the building with Scott when she got Sam's text. "Blaine's home for the weekend. His phone is acting weird so he probably won't be able to call or text." She replied, "k thx." Blaine barely bothered to talk to her at all lately anyway, so fuck him. Sam too.

She and Scott were sharing stories of their fathers being assholes. Scott's family was Catholic and he was an atheist (it was awesome how many atheists there were at OHIO—Tina was seriously going to make a list of all of them) and his dad was not cool with it at all.

"So we were in the car," Scott was telling her, "and someone started talking about the pope. And so I'm, like, saying why does he need that bullet-proof popemobile if he's God's favorite and didn't he used to be a Nazi and my dad's all, like, telling me to shut the fuck up because I'm being disrespectful and finally I'm like, 'You know what, dad? Fuck the motherfucking pope.' You know, like that song?" Tina did not know what song he meant, but now she wanted to hear it. "And he pulls the car over to the side of the highway, and we're like ten miles outside of town, and he tells me to get the fuck out of the car and walk home."

"Oh my God! He made you walk ten miles?"

"Well, he came back for me after like twenty minutes, but still."

"Fuck," Tina said. "So Catholics have confirmation, right? And confirmation classes?" She was pretty sure she had heard this, so she barely waited for Scott to nod. "Did you have to go?"

"Oh yeah. I didn't even bother trying to get out of it. And there was a party afterwards, and presents, so..."

"Well, Methodists have confirmation too. And I didn't try to get out of the _classes_, or rather, at first I did, because I said from the beginning that I wasn't going to get confirmed. And my dad was scandalized and said, 'Yes, you are' and I said, 'No, I'm not,' and finally my mom convinced us that it would be a fair compromise if I went to the classes but then if I still didn't want to get confirmed at the end of them I didn't have to. So, fine, I went to these stupid classes twice a week for all of seventh and eighth grade. Not to mention sitting through church before the Sunday classes with just my dad, because my mother and brother didn't even have to go to that. And the _only_ good thing about sitting through church, by the way, at least in the one we went to, is when the whole congregation says the Lord's Prayer together, and there's this awesome hissing noise every time they get to an s-sound, or a bunch of s-sounds, like the 'as we forgive those who trespass against us' line. But so anyway, at the end of eighth grade when we got our order forms for the confirmation robes and I mentioned that I didn't need one obviously, my dad flipped out. Like it was totally news to him that I didn't want to get confirmed and what the hell was wrong with me and why did I even go to the classes for two years? And I was like, 'You_ made_ me go, asshole. That was our deal.' But so now my brother is in seventh grade, and he doesn't even have to go to the classes because my dad's like 'What's the point?'"

"Maybe you convinced your dad to be more reasonable," Scott said.

"Fuck that. If I had to suffer, Charlie should too."

They were coming around to the front of the building and saw the head RC walking toward them. He said hi to both of them and then asked if he could talk to Scott alone for a minute. "Oh, yeah, I can..." Tina took a step toward the dorms.

"No, I don't want to interrupt," Aaron said. "I really just need a minute." So Aaron and Scott stepped out of earshot, while Tina scrolled through some old texts on her phone so she wouldn't look like a total idiot just standing there with nothing to do. Luckily they really weren't much more than a minute. They walked back toward her and Aaron said, "Well, just let us know if you hear anything" before he walked back to the dorms.

Scott and Tina resumed their counter-clockwise circuit of the building. Tina didn't want to pry and ask what was up, but she was glad when Scott volunteered an explanation. "You remember April?" he asked. "Wells?"

"Of course." Tina had never really talked to Scott about her since she left because she really had no idea how serious they'd been and she didn't want to seem, like, jealous or nosy or anything.

"Well, after her parents pulled her out of here they put her in a psych ward at this hospital in Lima."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah. So anyway, earlier today she ran."

"Ran as in escaped?"

"Uh huh. And they think she drank a bunch of vodka and dropped some acid."

"Holy shit."

"So, they're worried, you know, her parents and the hospital and everyone. They were just checking whether she'd tried to get in touch with me. She hasn't though."

"Wow. I hope she'll be okay."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Take your hat off," Blaine's mom told him. In addition to the no-family-business rule at dinner, they strictly observed a no-hats-at-the-table rule. Blaine didn't bother trying to argue or trying to do anything about his hair, which, luckily, no one commented on.

It was easily the most awkward family meal Blaine could remember ever. He attempted to start an appropriate conversation. "So, the government didn't shut down?"

But his father just said, "No" and glared at him.

"Blaine, did Cooper send you the pictures from his trip to the L.A. zoo?" his mother asked.

"No, I don't think so."

"There's a little joey that's just started to come out of its mother's pouch. It's adorable."

"A baby koala," his dad added.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I know what a joey is."

"Yes, of course you do. How silly of me. And you also obviously knew that your mother wasn't referring to a baby kangaroo or a baby wombat or a—"

"I am sorry I mentioned it," his mother said.

Blaine ate his salmon and his asparagus slowly, in tiny bites. Not because he was savoring them or anything—he barely noticed what they tasted like—but because the more time he could fill up with eating, the less time there would be for getting screamed at by his dad. Not that his dad ever actually screamed.

But eventually they ended up in the living room anyway. "Layla, you'd better do the talking," Blaine's dad said. "I might say something I'll regret."

She held Blaine's dad's hand and looked over at Blaine, who was sitting alone on the couch opposite them. Blaine had the ridiculous urge to go to his room and dig out his old teddy bear. He didn't do that, obviously, but he did clutch a sofa pillow against his chest. She leaned forward. "Obviously you know that your father's upset. And frankly so am I. Do you know why we're upset?"

"Because I'm not pretending to be happy about what you're doing to me?"

"Oh, for—"

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there," his mom said. "I think this conversation will go a lot better if you don't speak at all."

Blaine leaned back and made the zipping-my-lips motion.

"We are upset primarily because your father had to drive six hours to Lima today just to talk to you because you didn't have the simple courtesy to answer our calls."

"What's the point of talking? You've already—"

"I am serious, Blaine, that every word you say right now is just making us madder. Do you think your father enjoys spending half his Friday driving across Ohio? With a sullen teenager for half the trip? He dislikes long drives anyway—"

"And to see how ungrateful you are about it..." his father added.

"You want me to _grateful_ that you made me come out here to get ganged up on and told how pissed you guys are even though I'm the one who—"

"I want you to be grateful, you little..."

While his dad was trying to calm himself, his mother finished the thought for him. "We want you to be grateful because your father has decided to commute to State College, Pennsylvania, so you can stay enrolled at OHIO."

"What? That's like a three hour drive from here."

"Three and a half," his father said.

"You're going to drive seven hours a day?"

"No. I'm going to get an apartment in State College. I'll stay there during the week and come home on weekends."

"So..."

"The cost of the apartment," his mother said, "plus the cost of gas, wipes out the salary increase."

"And...you're doing that for me?"

"So now you can see why we're upset?" his mother asked.

"I...oh my God, dad, _thank you_ so much. I—"

"You're welcome. Now go do some homework or something. I'm still way too angry to deal with you right now."


	23. Uneaten Cookies

**April 16, 2011**

Blaine was sprawled across his bed talking on the phone to Cooper. "Dad still hasn't talked to me all morning. I think he wants to kill me." Not that Blaine didn't see his point.

"I tried to tell you," Cooper said. "Why didn't you return _my_ calls at least?"

"I turned my phone off. They just kept calling me and...and I was kinda...busy."

"Holy crap, Blaine! I just _heard _you blush when you said 'busy'!"

"What? I had homework..."

"Nice try, bro. Now help me out here. Busy, spanking it? Busy, balls deep in some hot stud? What?"

"Jesus Christ, Cooper." He covered his eyes with his arm; he was _so _glad Cooper was halfway across the country.

"Hey, I need to know what level of sex talk I have to give you. Believe me, it's not that I _want_ to know this stuff about my baby brother."

"No sex talk necessary. I got an A in health class last year, so I'm good."

"Everyone gets an A in health," Cooper scoffed.

"Stop worrying about my sex life and tell me how to get dad to stop being mad at me. Like, what did you do when you backed his car into mom's car?"

"Uh...I told him the important thing was that no one was hurt and asked wasn't this what he had insurance for?"

Blaine pulled a pillow over his head. "Somehow I don't think that's going to work in my situation."

"Don't feel bad," Cooper said. "It didn't work in my situation either."

Blaine's mother knocked on his door as she leaned inside. "I'm going to the grocery store. Do you want to come along?"

He did. He was not keen on being alone in the house with his dad yet. Besides, he'd found a recipe online that he wanted to try, and he needed some ingredients.

Pistachios, it turned out, were kind of a bitch to work with. You had to shell each damn nut, and with some of them the shells were sealed shut and you had to bite them to get them open, and then you got your spit all over the nut so you may as well just eat it if you didn't want to subject everyone else to your spit. Eventually he realized Sam had tasted his spit already anyway, so what the hell. And then they had to be chopped, and they kept flying out from under the knife. Every time Blaine lost a nut to the floor, he remembered how long it had taken just to get the sucker out of its shell—every single one he lost he was pretty sure was one of the hardest to remove the shell of—and it pissed him off.

The cookies themselves were a pain too. Stuff had to be softened and shaped and wrapped and chilled. It ended up being like an all-afternoon project. He had started out thinking he'd be happy just for Sam to appreciate the thought, but now he knew he'd be pretty upset if Sam didn't think they were the most delicious cookies he ever tasted. Though no matter what, the cookies were going to be cold by the time he got them back to OHIO, so there would be no delightful warm scent of them in the oven to make Sam hungry!

This was what Blaine was thinking when his father, who he'd managed to avoid most of the day, walked into the kitchen and said, "Wow, something smells delicious! What are you making?"

"Uh, just some cookies."

"What kind?"

"Pistachio," Blaine said, nearly choking on the word because it sounded so dirty.

"I love pistachios! You know your mother never makes me anything with pistachios because they're such a pain in the neck."

Blaine was _so relieved_ that his father had not just said "pain in the ass." He was pretty sure he had never actually heard his dad say "pain in the ass," yet he had been almost certain he was about to say it now. As if all the rhapsodizing about how much he loved pistachios wasn't bad enough already.

"Are these a peace offering?"

"Um..."

"Because I'll be honest. I'm still not happy with you. But I do appreciate the gesture."

The timer dinged and Blaine took the first batch out of the oven. They did smell rich and delicious. His father obviously thought so too: he barely waited until they were cool enough to touch before he ate three of them. But he was actually sort of smiling now, and Blaine couldn't bring himself to tell him to leave Sam's cookies the hell alone.

XOXOXO

With Blaine gone for the weekend again, Sam was bored. He actually finished his homework Saturday morning—except for his math, which he was going to ask Blaine for help with when he got back. (Though probably not the very minute he got back.) He would ask Tina, but she seemed to be spending most of her time with Scott now. And she was already stuck tutoring him on Mondays anyway.

That afternoon while he was thinking about how much he wished Blaine were around, he realized he hadn't thanked Jeff yet for telling him that Blaine liked him. It was so rude of him! But when he told Jeff how things had turned out, he knew he'd be happy for them and totally overlook the belatedness of the thanks. Still, since he had spaced it out for a few days, a gesture beyond just verbal thanks was probably in order.

So he sent him a text: "Hey, can I buy you a coffee or something at North Plaza? If you don't mind the walk?"

A few minutes later Jeff texted him back: "I'd love to, thanks! Don't worry about the walk. It's more scenic than walking around the building ;)"

"I was really glad you texted me," Jeff said when they met outside his dorm about an hour later. "I thought..." He trailed off, saying nothing for what seemed like a really long time.

"You thought what, dude?"

"No, nothing. It just almost seemed like you were avoiding me or something."

"But why would I avoid you?"

Jeff shrugged. "Maybe I'm just...I just didn't see you outside of class or hear from you or anything."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Sam said. "I was just...talking...with Blaine a lot." He wanted to let Jeff know that things had gone well with Blaine, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to go into detail about how well.

"How is Blaine doing? I know he's probably pissed at me—"

"No, of course not!"

"Well, I could understand if he was. I just hope you know that I know you guys are friends, and I don't have anything against him. I'd like to be able to be friends with him."

"Aren't you guys already friends?" Sam knew it had been a little awkward when Blaine found out Jeff liked someone else, but that was a long time ago. "I mean—" Sam was knocked to the ground mid-sentence by Brittany, who he had obviously not seen running up behind him to jump on his back.

"Ow!" she said as her knee hit the sidewalk when they both fell.

Santana held her hand out to help Brittany up. Sam was on his own, but she did give him a "You okay, Flash?"

"Are you guys going to the movie?" Brittany asked.

Sam assumed she meant the theater at North Plaza, but it had six screens, so... "Which one?"

"The new _Scream_, obviously," Brittany said. "It's got Emma Roberts and Hayden Panettiere!"

"Oh, I heard that—" Jeff started.

Santana cut him off with a stern, "No spoilers! But I'll tell you this: if they kill Emma off in the first scene I'm gonna be super pissed... Because she's really talented and it would be a waste."

"Not to mention fucking _hot_," Sam added, hoping his comment wouldn't offend the girls. "You feel like going to see it, Jeff?"

"No, thank you."

Sam shrugged. "I guess we're not going to the movie then."

The four of them walked to North Plaza together. Brittany and Santana talked mostly to each other and Jeff hardly talked at all. So Sam hardly talked either until they separated from the girls at North Plaza.

"What are we doing here, Sam?" Jeff asked as they walked into the cleverly named North Plaza Coffee.

"I'm buying you coffee. Or, you know, tea or pop or whatever you want." Sam had no idea whether Jeff drank coffee or not. They'd sat together at breakfast, but he'd never really noticed. "To thank you."

"To thank me?"

"Yeah..." Sam turned toward the counter to place his order. "I'll take a medium lemonade, and, uh...Jeff?"

"Skinny vanilla latte."

"And a large skinny vanilla latte. For here."

Sam paid, and the barrista said she'd bring their drinks out when they were ready. It wasn't crowded, and they sat at a table right by the counter.

"Yeah, I wanted to thank you for telling me about Blaine. About...how he felt."

"Well, it seemed like things could be awkward if—"

"Yeah, totally. I mean, I'm sure that's why he didn't tell me himself. Like he thought I was totally straight—"

"Did he actually convince you of that?"

"Convince me of what? No, I thought I was totally straight too. I mean, until, well, you know..."

"Until you kissed me?" Jeff asked. Was he blushing? Maybe it was just the heat from his latte.

"Yeah, and I totally owe you for that too. If we get married some day or something..."

Jeff knocked over his drink. Sam hopped up to get a stack of napkins from the counter and helped him clean it up. "We've never even talked about whether we're really..."

"I'm just kidding. We only kissed for the first time like three days ago. Obviously me and Blaine aren't gonna, like, elope or anything."

"You and _Blaine_!?"

"Yeah!" Sam said happily. "And I mean, I don't know when—if ever—I would have told him about my crush on him if you hadn't told me that he had one on me. So thank you! He's a really..." Sam leaned in and lowered his voice. "He's a really good kisser! I mean, it probably doesn't surprise _you_ that a guy can be a good kisser, but..."

"Of course that doesn't surprise me. I kissed _you_. _You're_ a good kisser."

"Oh, well, thanks. I mean, that was just a test, obviously, but—"

"Obviously."

"But it's still nice of you to say. And I mean, if there's ever someone _you _like and there's anything I can do to help you... Hopefully it won't be a straight guy, though," Sam added, remembering why Jeff wasn't interested in Blaine.

"Would you excuse me?" Jeff stood hastily and ran off to the restroom. He was in there a really long time. Sam bought him a new latte to replace the spilled one, and it was cold by the time he came back out. Not that he so much as looked at it anyway. He said, "Sorry, I remembered...Kurt called me and reminded me that we have a huge group project due for English—"

"What? We don't have any group assignment. Kurt's not even in our class."

"Sorry. I meant French. Anyway, he's outside now..."

Sam looked outside and didn't see Kurt or anyone else from OHIO. But then he noticed a car, with some big guy behind the wheel and Kurt in the passenger seat.

"That's not Kurt's dad is it?" He didn't look old enough. "Or brother?"

"That's his boyfriend. Kurt's the luckiest guy."

"Yeah?" Sam looked again. The guy was beefy, he'd give him that. "So that's the kind of guy you're into?"

"No, he's not my type. He plays football, ugh. I just meant because he can drive."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry you have to leave."

"Yeah. I'm super sorry too."

**April 17, 2011**

Both Blaine's parents drove him back to school on Sunday afternoon. He was glad it wasn't just his father. In theory his dad didn't believe in holding grudges, but... He did, for example, mention several times that as much as he hated spending the day driving, he was glad to have some company. The part about how he wouldn't have company for the drives to and from State College was just implied—as was the part about the company he was glad to have now not being Blaine's.

Blaine texted Sam as soon as they got off at the Lima exit, and Sam texted back that he'd be in the room. As soon as his parents pulled away from the curb, he ran to the dorm. He was glad not to have laundry or anything other than the bag he'd carried to class Friday afternoon. The only new thing in the bag was a Ziploc with the few cookies he'd managed to hide from his dad.

Blaine had spent a good chunk of the drive from Kent—well, a good chunk of the whole weekend, in fact—envisioning his reunion with Sam. They'd run into each others' arms, obviously. If they ran across the grassy square between the dorms and the school, they'd meet in front of Sweven. If it was in the cafeteria, one of them would probably bump into some poor kid carrying a tray full of food and spill it everywhere but not even notice.

But it turned out they would be meeting in the bedroom. The one place they actually could rip each others' clothes off. Blaine had spent more time envisioning that reunion scenario than any of the others.

And yet, when he did walk into the room, it was like they were both shy again. Sam was sitting on his own bunk, not Blaine's, drawing in his sketchbook. He hopped down when Blaine walked in the door, but he didn't grab him or anything. He just asked if the drive back had been awkward.

It wasn't too bad, Blaine said. He took a couple steps closer and asked how Sam's weekend was. They'd spoken a few times, but it had been mostly about Blaine's situation with his dad. Sam said his weekend was fine. Boring, though. He wished Blaine had been around. He, too, took a couple steps closer, and now there were only a few inches between them. "Can I...? Can we...?"

Blaine dropped his bag, which made a probably not good thud. He'd have to check on the laptop, but not right now. Right now he was reaching for Sam; right now Sam was reaching for him. Their lips touched, tentatively at first. Sam's lips were so...they made him really, really want to rip Sam's clothes off now, but at the same time, they made him feel like if this was all, just their lips touching, it would still be incredible.

Sam was the first to pull away. "Can I ask you a stupid question?"

"I'm sure it's not stupid."

"Are we...are we boyfriends now?"

"I hope so!" Blaine never imagined himself doing naked stuff—naked stuff that led to orgasms—with a guy who wasn't his boyfriend. "I mean, do you wanna be?"

"I..." Sam had never imagined himself having a boyfriend at all. Not that he maybe would have sworn it could never happen, but...he had liked so many girls for so long that it seemed a little weird that he'd have a boyfriend before he'd ever even had a girlfriend. Then again, he'd never like any one girl as intensely as he liked Blaine now, so... "Yeah. I'd like to be."

Blaine smiled and stroked his hair. "It's official then."

"And...you know what we were doing before we had to go to class on Friday and then before you went home for the weekend and left me here all by myself?"

"Uh, yeah. Not something I'd forget easily."

"Can we do that some more?"

"Totally!" Blaine said.

"But...maybe not more than that? For a while? Cause..." Cause he didn't know what he was doing and things were already going faster than he ever would have expected and he didn't know how much he could handle yet.

"Yeah. Of course." Blaine was actually relieved. "I don't think I'm ready for much more than that either. I mean, yet."

"Do you want to...?" Sam glanced at Blaine's bed. "Like, now?"

"There's nothing else I've wanted to do all weekend."


	24. Any Time

**April 18, 2011**

Sam did not get his geometry done Sunday night. He was trying to do it now, before class, while Blaine was getting ready for class. If he skipped his shower and breakfast, he might be able to get it done. Not done right, probably, but enough to go in the grade book as complete.

He felt a little weird about not showering. Not that he had never, ever skipped a day, but last night he had fallen asleep with quite a bit of come still on his chest and stomach and hands. At least he had washed his hands since then.

Blaine exited the bathroom with his hair looking perfect—and his body looking more perfect, concealed by just a towel. Not that Sam was looking. He was concentrating on this proof, damn it! And now Blaine was standing behind him with his hands on his shoulders. "You missed a great shower," he said.

"I know. If you hadn't distracted me all night I wouldn't have to be doing my homework now."

"Sorry. I'll leave you alone now." He stepped away from behind the chair, but not before planting a kiss on Sam's neck right below the earlobe. A spot he'd discovered was extra sensitive. He got dressed while Sam went back to his homework. "Are you coming to breakfast?"

"I can't."

"You have to eat...Wait, I almost forgot! I baked you some cookies."

Sam set his pencil down and turned in his chair. "Seriously? When you were at home?"

"Yeah. Cause, you know, I was thinking about you. And, uh, I thought you might appreciate them."

"I totally do. No one's ever baked me cookies before. I mean, my mom, but they were never _just_ for me."

"Yeah, about that... There aren't that many. My dad ate most of them...not that I offered them to him. He just took them. And I didn't have enough time to make another batch."

"That's okay. I don't think I could eat a whole batch of cookies anyway." He watched Blaine, waiting, wondering where they were.

"Oh!" Blaine said. "I'll get them out of my bag. I'm sorry there aren't that many." He lifted the bag onto his bed and pushed his books aside. "Oh, fuck, Sam. Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry..."

"What? Did you forget them or something? It's all right..."

"No. Look!" He held up a Ziploc of crushed cookie pieces. "The books or the laptop must have been on top of them. I'm so sorry!"

"Give 'em here," Sam said. "They'll still taste the same."

"Yeah, but..." He leaned forward to hand Sam the bag. "They're just crumbs."

Sam pinched a few pieces between his thumb and index finger and brought them to his mouth. "Oh my God, these crumbs are fucking delicious. What kind of cookies are these?"

Blaine tried to suppress a grin as he said, "Pistachio."

Sam didn't try to hide his smile at all. "You baked me pistachio cookies? Because of that stupid analogy I tried to make?"

"I didn't think it was stupid at all."

Sam got out of his chair and stood in front of Blaine. "Thank you. They're fucking delicious." He licked Blaine's lips. "Mmm, even more delicious." He carefully removed the finest crumbs from the bag and spread them on Blaine's lips. And slowly licked them off. "So good."

"I don't want to distract you from your homework," Blaine said.

"Too late," Sam said, pushing him back on the bed.

XOXOXO

Tina was having lunch with Cody and Scott and Ellen and a couple of the other kids who'd been working on the Osbadde Attitudes' blog. They were outraged that Dean Stone had objected to the word "sucks" in a blog post about the cafeteria food. In addition to the obvious free speech issues, the food really did suck.

Kurt walked over to the table and bent down to talk to Tina quietly. "Have you seen Blaine or Sam?"

"No, actually. Blaine wasn't in English this morning." Tina was pretty sure it was the first class he'd ever skipped. She had been a little worried, but he answered her text by saying he had overslept.

"I need to talk to you." Tina gestured to an empty seat at the table, but he said, "No. Alone."

Tina grabbed the apple off her tray and followed Kurt. He led them into Mr. Jackson's classroom, which was empty. She sat on Mr. Jackson's desk and waited for him to talk.

He started pacing. "Jeff told me about Sam and Blaine."

"What about them?"

Kurt stopped walking and looked at her questioningly. "Do you really not know? Or are you feigning ignorance to keep it a secret? Because if you're feigning ignorance to keep it a secret, I'm all for that. In fact, what I wanted to tell you to tell them is not to let anyone find out."

"Kurt, I'm not feigning ignorance. I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

Kurt looked around, as if anyone might have sneaked in without their noticing. "They're going out."

"What!?" When did this happen? If it did? It couldn't have happened, because Blaine would have told her. And he hadn't said a fucking word to her. "What exactly did Jeff say?" There had probably just been a misunderstanding.

"According to Sam, they confessed their mutual crushes on each other. And they kissed. And Sam said Blaine is a really good kisser, which _crushed_ Jeff, because he didn't say anything like that about Jeff after the two of them kissed."

"Wait, wait, wait." This was way too much information. "Who did Sam kiss?"

"Both of them. Jeff first. And Jeff thought it meant they were going out. I tried...I didn't want to seem like I was standing in the way if it did mean that, but I tried to suggest that it might not. So he wouldn't be devastated, which of course he is now. But then, the reason I was skeptical was because I thought Sam was straight, which is apparently not the case."

"So then they...Sam and _Blaine_?"

"At least according to Jeff. He said he got it straight from Sam."

"So Sam is gay?" That couldn't be right. He was always looking at girls. Besides, why wouldn't he have mentioned it? There was no conceivable reason to be in the closet at OHIO.

"Bi would be my guess. Maybe even just bi-curious. Which is what I'd suggest they tell people if this ever becomes widely known. Because..."

"Shit!" Tina said as she realized what Kurt was getting at. "Because if Sam is gay, they won't let him and Blaine be roommates again next year."

Okay. So there was one conceivable reason to be in the closet at OHIO.

XOXOXO

Blaine got a text from Tina: "Meet me in the caf after last period. Urgent." If it had been anyone else he would have blown them off. Instead he called Sam and told him he wouldn't be back to the room right away. He wondered if it was a little weird that he felt like he should keep Sam updated on his every move. He decided it wasn't.

Blaine had to shower after his last class and Tina didn't, so she was there first. She had earbuds in and her head down on the table, so she didn't hear or see him coming. When he put his hand on her shoulder she jumped. "Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. Okay, you go first, but then I have some big news for you."

"Is it...Wait. I'm gonna write down what I think your news is. Then you tell me and we'll see if I was right."

"Uh, okay. But you're not going to guess."

"What will you give me if I do?"

"Um..."

"Buy me ice cream. Next time one of the RCs is driving a group of kids to the mall, buy me a sundae at that ice cream place. If I'm wrong I'll buy you one."

"Deal."

"Deal." Tina wondered if Blaine realized he'd just been tricked into going to the mall with her whether he won or lost. She should have specified no Sam. But then he wouldn't have made the bet.

Tina scribbled her answer, tore the page out of her notebook, folded it intricately, and passed it to Blaine. Blaine announced—entirely too loudly, given what Tina needed to tell him—"Sam and I are boyfriends!" It took him a minute to unfold Tina's paper, and when he did, his face fell slightly. "How did you guess?"

"Jeff told Kurt, Kurt told me."

"Jeff!? How did Jeff know?"

"Sam told him."

Blaine started to laugh. Oh man, he wished he could have seen Jeff's reaction.

"What's so funny?"

"Jeff's been flirting with Sam, like, nonstop since... I kept telling him Sam was straight and he thought I was lying."

"But... if Sam is going out with you now, doesn't that mean Jeff was right all along?"

"Yeah, but..." Blaine didn't know how to finish that. "That's not the point. The point is that Sam is my boyfriend and I want you to be happy for me."

"I am. Really happy. You just can't tell anyone else."

Blaine laughed. He assumed she was joking. Tina didn't laugh, though; she didn't even smile. She told him about Kurt and Jeff not being allowed to room together because they were both gay. "But Sam isn't really gay," Blaine said. "He's bi at most."

"Fine, but Kurt and Jeff aren't dating each other. I think they'll care more that you and Sam are going out than they will about whether Sam _also_ likes girls."

"Fuck." Tina had a really good point.

"I mean, maybe you guys _shouldn't _room together next year. Like, maybe it would make things awkward, especially if you break up or something."

"Tina!" He couldn't believe she was suggesting they might break up.

"Okay, fine. You have a love that'll last forever. But it looks like you'll have to choose between Sam being closeted or you two not getting to room together next year. Possibly even the rest of this year—I don't know if they'd make one of you move out. And I don't know how you could even ask without making them suspicious."

Blaine put his head down on the table. "Fuck. Fuck!"

He didn't want to have to hide that he and Sam were boyfriends. If so-called couples like Tina and Scott—and nothing against either of them, but they didn't really seem _that_ into each other—could walk around and let everyone know they were together, then why shouldn't he and Sam be able to?

And since Blaine was already out, that meant Sam would have to stay closeted. Or...become closeted...Blaine didn't really think he considered himself to be in the closet before. But he would be now if they had to keep things secret.

But how could they _not_ room together? The stuff they'd been doing in the room was _so much fun_. And that was only with using their hands and, like, rubbing against each other. Just think how much more fun it was going to be when they started using their mouths. Oh, Jesus, just thinking about it! And then, eventually, when they would... Holy fuck!

They could mess around any time now. _Any time_. Maybe they shouldn't make a habit of skipping classes to mess around, but... But the point was it would be a much bigger hassle to find time to be alone together if they had different roommates. And what if they weren't in the same wing...or maybe even in the same dorm? They'd have no chance of seeing each other between eleven p.m. and six a.m. That was like prime messing around time.

Obviously he had to talk to Sam right away. He jumped up and ran toward the dorm. "You're welcome for the heads-up!" Tina yelled after him. But he didn't hear.


	25. Des amis

**April 18, 2011 (continued)**

Blaine came barreling into the room looking as cute as ever. He was evidently as eager to see Sam as Sam was to see him. Sam was at the door before it closed, kissing Blaine against the wall.

"Sam, I need to tell you something."

Sam stopped, looking stricken. "You don't want to do this anymore?"

"I _totally_ want to keep doing this." He cupped the back of Sam's head and brought him in for another kiss.

"Thank God." He toyed with Blaine's collar. "What's the big emergency then?"

"Um..." Blaine thought they should enjoy this now, while they could. There would be a brief period when they were too tired to do anything, and he could tell Sam about it then. "It can wait."

He pulled Sam's t-shirt off. Fuck, his chest was beautiful. He would never get tired of touching it, just running his hands across it, feeling the muscles beneath his fingers.

Sam's fingers, meanwhile, were busy unbuttoning Blaine's shirt. That task accomplished, he let one hand move slowly down Blaine's back while the other was placed over a nipple. He teased the nipple and gave it a little squeeze between his thumb and index finger. Blaine sucked in air, so he did it again. Wow, Blaine really seemed to like that. He wondered if Blaine would like it if he used his mouth. Jesus, that moan. Yeah, he seemed to like it.

As he was licking and sucking the nipple, he was also trying to get Blaine's pants off. But he was wearing some crazy complicated belt and had to do it himself. He stepped out of his pants and Sam's hand went straight into his briefs. He'd discovered that he actually liked touching Blaine's cock now. And he _loved _the blissed-out face Blaine made when he did, the low moan he made, the way he couldn't seem to help but move against Sam's hand.

"Bed?" Blaine suggested, so they shed the rest of their clothes and moved there.

Blaine lay on his back with Sam sitting on his thighs, just...just touching his dick. He wanted to feel every part of it, from every angle. He wanted to know how stroking it upward felt different from stroking it downward. He wanted to feel how heavy his testicles were. Blaine submitted to these explorations happily.

Even more happily when Sam decided he wanted to know what it tasted like. He asked first if it was okay and Blaine eagerly told him it was. He started out with little kisses. When he progressed to little flicks of the tongue, Blaine whimpered. That was fun, and it was nice that Blaine seemed to enjoy it, but it didn't really give him much of a taste. He would just have to taste the whole thing in one long, continuous lick. Unless it tasted gross, and then he could stop. But it didn't taste gross and it made Blaine arch his back and whine, which was awesome. So he did it again, and then a third time.

"Blaine? I kinda wanna put the whole thing in my mouth."

"Okay."

"But, like, don't blow your load in my mouth, all right? Give me some warning?"

"Uh huh."

He put his lips around the head and slowly moved them down as far as he could without, like, gagging or anything. He swirled his tongue around it and Blaine whined. When he started to suck, Blaine made a low, drawn-out _oh_-noise and grabbed a handful of Sam's hair. He continued to suck, enjoying Blaine's moaning and trying to ignore the pain to his scalp, until Blaine tapped him frantically on the shoulder and went, "Sam! Sam!" He moved his face away and replaced it with his hand just in time to see Blaine's cock erupt. He'd never seen it from this angle and he thought it was...he thought it was kind of majestic, actually. But he was still glad he didn't get any in his mouth.

"God, Sam, that was...Fuck."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, stroking his own dick. Then he moved Blaine's hand over to do it for him.

"Don't you want me to do the same for you?"

"Next time. I just...Faster, Blaine. That was really hot and I just need to come, like, right now." Blaine spread some of his own come on his palm and jerked Sam fast until he had his own majestic orgasm.

Sam got a case of post-ejaculation giggles. He lay his head on Blaine's stomach—getting come in his hair, although he didn't realize it—until they passed. Then he said, "Fuck, that was fun. We should have started doing this a long time ago."

That reminded Blaine of what he had to talk to Sam about. He laid out the problem as succinctly as he could and waited for Sam's reaction.

"So, we can either do this any time we want, or we can hold hands in public, but we can't do both?"

"And you admit to anyone that you're bi, just to be safe."

"No one thinks I'm bi anyway. Well, except Jeff."

Fuck. Jeff. He'd have to figure out a way to deal with Jeff.

"So...?" Blaine said.

"So, your hand is awesome, but it can do way better things than hold onto mine in public. I think the choice is obvious."

"Me too," Blaine said.

**April 19, 2011**

"Tina, no offense but you look terrible. Are you sick or something? Dr. Hellman was pretty pissed that you missed class again."

Tina looked up from the mashed potatoes on her tray that she'd been idly playing with. "I didn't go to bed until like five. Then I slept through my alarm."

"What in the world..." Blaine was distracted by Jeff and Sam walking into the cafeteria together. Hopefully Sam was having more luck than Blaine had when he tried to make nice during French class.

"Can I talk to you, Jeff?" he'd asked, very civilly and politely.

Jeff had responded, "Pardon, j'comprend pas anglais."

Which, okay, it was French class and they were supposed to speak French. But he was just being a jerk because he knew his French was better than Blaine's. But fine. "Je veux encore être amis avec toi."

And Jeff's response had been, "Va te faire foutre." Which Blaine had to ask someone the meaning of, and it was not very nice.

"What in the world what?" Tina reminded him.

He looked at Tina again and regained his train of thought. "What in the world were you doing until five in the morning?"

She shrugged. "My English paper, theoretically. But I kept getting distracted by YouTube and I didn't finish it. Which is another reason I was avoiding class."

"We didn't even have an English paper due today."

"It's the one from Friday. Dr. Hellman gave me an extension over the weekend."

"So you didn't do it all weekend or last night? And instead of talk to him today you skipped class?"

"I know." Tina balled her hands up into fists and pressed them hard against her eyes. "I suck. I fucking suck so bad."

"No, it's okay." Blaine rubbed her back. "You have to get it done, though. Do you want some help? We could meet tonight—"

"No. I know you want to..." They had the table to themselves, but she looked around to make sure no one nearby was listening. "I know you want to go back to your room and do whatever it is that you and Sam are doing in there and please, God, don't tell me what it is."

"Don't be silly. I can totally..." Sam and Jeff sat down at their table, and Blaine paused to acknowledge them with a smile and a nod. "I can totally meet you tonight. Any time you want."

"Seriously, it's not necessary. I don't need help. I know how to do it. I just have to force myself to sit there and fucking do it."

"Okay, well...Call if you change your mind."

"Are you okay, Tina?" Sam asked.

"Fucking awesome. I'm just gonna put my head down for a minute. If I fall asleep will one of you wake me when it's time to go to class?"

"Sure," Blaine said, patting her back.

"Blaine," Jeff said, "I'm really sorry about what I said in French today."

"Oh. It's okay."

"No, it isn't. Je voudrais aussi que nous soyons amis. D'accord?"

"Uh, yeah. D'accord."

The GMC met after school, and Jeff was just...acting normal. It was kinda spooky, actually. He did take Kurt's side in a disagreement between Kurt and Blaine, but that wasn't unusual. Pretty much the whole group did.

Blaine still thought they should do "Fairytale of New York" and he was trying to convince Kurt to sing Kirsty MacColl's part.

Kurt didn't have a problem singing a girl's part, but he did have a problem with the lyrics. "I am not singing 'You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap, lousy you-know-what.' I have never used that word in my life and I'm not going to start by singing it in front of an audience."

"I know it's a horrible word," Blaine said. "It's not a song about two people who are nice to each other."

"I agree with Kurt," Wes said. "I don't see why a singing group that's half gay would ever want to sing a song with that word in it." Jeff nodded.

"But, that's actually what makes it okay." Blaine kind of couldn't believe he was arguing _for _the use of the word _faggot._ He hated it as much as anybody. He just really, really liked that song despite the use of the word in it. So he plowed on with his argument. "See, if Kurt sings the part, then it becomes a song between a gay couple. And if two gay people use the word with each other, it's not as bad. It's, like, almost joking."

"Would you call your boyfriend a faggot?" Nick asked. "If you had one?"

"No, of course not," Blaine said. He glanced at Jeff, wondering if maybe he had said something. He couldn't tell.

"All right then," Wes said. "We're not doing the song."

After practice Blaine walked out with Scott. "I know you really wanted to do that song..." Scott said.

"No, it's okay. I totally get the argument against it. Say, are you hanging out with Tina tonight?"

"I dunno. Maybe after dorm checks. Why?"

"No, no reason. She's just really stressed out about this English paper."

"Okay. Well I'm not gonna be upset or anything if she doesn't have time to hang out."

"That's not..." That wasn't why Blaine had brought it up, but he wasn't sure why he had. It's not like he wanted Scott to insist she go back to her room and not come out until it was done. "Okay."

Tina did meet Scott after dorm checks to walk around the building a few times. The first thing he said was, "Blaine said you're really stressed about some paper?"

Fucking Blaine! Like it was any of his business. But...it probably meant he was worried about her, and if that was true, then it was actually kind of nice. "Yeah. I'm almost done with it now, though." Not true, but it wasn't something she wanted to bore him to death with.

And they did find more interesting things to talk about than their homework. Tina still didn't know if they were really going out or what, but she did like their walking and talking routine. Tonight they somehow got on the topic of drugs.

"Of course, I've never actually tried anything stronger than pot," Scott said.

Tina said, "I've never even tried that."

"Really? You should, it's a lot of fun. It sort of...relaxes your body and opens your mind."

"Cool."

"Would you want to try it? If we could get some?"

"Mmm. Maybe. Not here on campus though."

"No, of course not. We'd have to find somewhere else. I don't know where to get any anyway. I know some people at home, but I'm not going back until Memorial Day."

"I'm going home for the weekend in a couple weeks," Tina said. It was her great-grandmother's ninety-ninth birthday.

"It must be pretty easy to get some in Kent, with the college and everything. Do you know anyone?"

"Um..." She thought of her conversations at Thanksgiving and Christmas with Nathan about parties he'd been to and so forth. He would know where to get some. "My cousin might."

"Do you wanna ask her?"

"Him. And yeah, I'll ask. You know, it's funny that you said 'ask _her._' Because I only have two cousins and they're both boys, so I always thought the term _cousin_ only applied to boys. Like _brother_. So they were my cousins, but I didn't know what I was to them."

"That is funny. I'm from a Catholic family and some of them are very traditional and conservative, so I have a shit ton of cousins, male and female."

They walked around the building a few more times, conversation meandering, before Tina told him she had to go finish that paper. They said good-night and she walked back to her dorm.

She really was going to finish it tonight and then go to sleep at a reasonable hour and be up early enough to make it to class on time.

But Rachel was in the room. It wasn't so bad when Rachel was in the room doing homework. In a way it was better because it sort of forced Tina to stay focused. But Rachel wasn't doing homework now. She was crying.

She'd almost rather shoot herself in the head than ask, but she said, "What's wrong, Rachel?"

"Noah," Rachel choked out.

Of course. Her great, tragic love. Tina didn't ask any follow-up questions, but Rachel went on anyway.

"He was my first."

"He was your first boyfriend?"

"My first boyfriend...and my _first_."

"Your..._oh_. Oh, yeah."

She really didn't want Rachel to elaborate, but of course she did. "I gave him my virginity and then he left."

Jesus, who even says shit like that? "Did you use birth control?" she asked. There was a long silence. "Rachel, please tell me you used birth control." Instead of answering, she burst into even heavier sobs. "The morning-after pill at least?" Rachel shook her head. It was probably too late now.

For two supposedly smart people, Tina couldn't believe they were so stupid. She almost hoped Rachel waspregnant, but not really, because she wasn't that cruel. Besides, think of the poor baby if she decided to keep it.

"Have you gotten your period yet?" Rachel shook her head. "Okay. Well..." Tina did not want to know any more, like...how many times, or...anything at all. "Well, it's probably fine. It's too early to be worried anyway." Depending on how long ago the _first_ time was, but she really didn't want to know.

Also, it occurred to Tina that Rachel probably wasn't even crying because she was worried about being pregnant. She was probably just crying over the tragedy of losing her true love or whatever. So now Tina had given her something additional to cry about. Oh, she really hoped Rachel would get her period soon. For Rachel and also for herself, so living with Rachel would be less unbearable.


	26. The Great Wedgie War of 2011

**May 6, 2011**

Rachel was going home for the weekend. It was so fucking unfair, because Tina was going home for the weekend too. Why couldn't Rachel go home _next _weekend so that Tina could have a nice, relaxing weekend without having her around all the time? Not that she'd have Rachel around when she was in Kent, but...it just seemed like a waste. And Tina's dad was there to pick her up before Rachel's dad was, so she didn't even get the room to herself for like half an hour.

She slept for a good chunk of the ride home. It was probably really rude; she probably should have talked to her dad or something. But it wasn't like they had a lot of interests in common. And even when she tried to talk about something that should have been noncontroversial—when she mentioned how much the cafeteria sucked, which at OHIO was like complaining about the weather—he turned it into an excuse to harangue her about the vegetarianism.

Plus she was so fucking tired.

Her mom made spaghetti for dinner. Her father and brother wouldn't eat it without meat sauce, but she had set some of the sauce aside before adding the meat. Of course her dad probably still wasn't happy about it—he liked at least two-thirds of his plate covered with dead animal flesh—but too fucking bad for him.

"Tina, I talked to Mr. Jackson yesterday," her mom said.

"Oh?" Tina had been expecting this. Mr. Jackson had been talking to her about this summer math camp for a while now, and it sounded great. Tina thought it would be _awesome_ just to be around other kids who didn't think it was super weird to want to do math stuff because it was fun. And to be somewhere that she was good at something other people cared about too.

On Wednesday he'd asked her to stick around for a minute after class and asked if she'd talked to her parents yet. The application deadline was the fifteenth. "I haven't," she told him. "Because I'm pretty sure they'd say no." It was expensive, and it wasn't like they'd ever sent her to summer camp before. And so he'd offered to talk to them.

"He told me about this camp, Black Duck."

"Uh huh. Blackduck." One word. It was named after the town it was near in northern Minnesota.

"He thinks you would really benefit from it. He said the math program at OHIO isn't really set up to be challenging or engaging enough for a student like you."

"Well...yeah. I mean, Mr. Jackson is a great teacher, but..."

"Is it something you want to do?"

"I would really love to," Tina said earnestly.

"Well, get the application done this weekend."

"You mean you'll let me go? It costs four—"

"I saw how much it costs."

"Wait a minute," Charlie said. "You're spending four hundred dollars to send her to camp?" It was actually four thousand.

Their dad chuckled. "You wanna go to math camp too, Charlie? Let's see if you can pass seventh grade math first. If you do, then we'll talk."

Even though Charlie was a brat, Tina thought her dad was being kind of a dick. "I'm sure he's passing math, dad," she said.

But Charlie shrugged and said, "I guess we'll see."

How can you not pass math in seventh grade? He wasn't even taking algebra yet. But looking around at her family's faces, she could see it wasn't a joke; it was a real concern. She'd missed a lot, apparently.

**May 8, 2011**

Tina and Charlie and Jared and Nathan stuck together at their great-grandmother's birthday party because they knew practically no one there but each other. They were pretty much the only kids there, too, or at least the only kids who were there for long. The party was in the church basement, so a lot of the people who stopped by after the service dragged their kids along. But none of them stayed more than half an hour or so.

Otherwise it was mostly old people. Not that Halmoni had many friends her own age left; it was mostly friends of Tina's grandmother and great-uncle. Most of the residents of Halmoni's old apartment building were there—the one she'd lived in until she moved in with Grandma and Grandpa Cohen last year—and they were all old too.

And then there were some not-_so _-old people who were mostly her mother's and aunt's friends. One of them walked up to her when she was talking to Nathan and gave her a big hug. Tina thought she recognized the woman as an old work friend of her mother's. "Tina! I haven't seen you in so long! My God, look how grown up you are!" Tina just smiled blandly. What are you supposed to say to that? The woman looked at Nathan and said, "Is this your boyfriend?"

"No!" she and Nathan both said. No one ever thought they were cousins—Nathan and Jared's dad was white, and Nathan was the least Asian-looking of all the grandkids—but they had never been mistaken for boyfriend and girlfriend before. "This is my cousin, Nathan. Michelle's son."

"Oh. Pleased to meet you." The woman shook Nathan's hand, but didn't tell him who the hell _she _was. And then she kept making inane small talk with Tina, so much that Nathan slipped away to find Charlie or Jared. It really kind of pissed Tina off, because she had just been about to ask Nathan about what she and Scott had talked about.

She saw him slip outside alone about forty-five minutes later and followed him out. "Oh, hey, Tina," he said when he saw her. "Please tell me you weren't sent out here to bring me back in. I'm getting tired of trying to convince people that I really am her great-grandson."

"Nah. I wanted to ask you something actually."

"Oh. What?"

Tina felt weird just coming out and saying it. "So, I have this boyfriend—"

"You have a boyfriend? Who's not me?"

"Yeah. His name is Scott."

"Why didn't you mention him before?"

"I don't know. It's not really a big deal. Anyway, he was saying it would be fun if we smoked some pot together. Cause, like, he's tried it but I never have. But we don't know where to get any and I was wondering if you knew how I could get some."

Nathan looked at her for a long time before saying, "No. Sorry."

"Oh. But I thought you..."

"Yeah, but I never bought any. It was always just, like, there at a party or whatever."

"Oh," she said again. She was actually kind of relieved. Because what had she really been planning to do if he'd, like, given her the address of his drug dealer or something? Ask her mom for a ride over there? And then what if Lou somehow found it in her room before she and Scott figured out a place to go and smoke it? "Well, thanks anyway."

"Am I the only person you asked?"

"Yeah. I don't know anyone else who uses it."

He gave her that same long look again before he said, "Well, sorry."

**May 9, 2011**

"Tina, what do you say we skip the tutoring tonight? No one will have to know." Sam leaned past Tina to wink at Blaine when he said this. The three of them were at dinner; Tina had taken to sitting between Sam and Blaine to prevent any accidental PDA. She was getting a little tired of being talked past—and now winked past.

"Yeah, okay." Tina didn't have any particular desire to go through with the week's tutoring either. In fact she was really hoping to hang out in her room, alone. Rachel hadn't come back yesterday; apparently she'd gotten sick while she was at home for the weekend. With any luck she'd be out the whole week.

But Blaine put the kibosh on the whole skipping-the-tutoring plan. As if he really had a say in the matter! But all he had to say was, "Sam, geometry's really important for you," and Sam was all like, "Yeah, okay, I guess we won't skip it."

"So, what, you're taking orders from Blaine now?" Tina said.

"No. It's just that he's right."

Yes, fine. Blaine was right. Always so wise and responsible. Whatever. So they had their tutoring hour before Tina got to go back to her room.

And Rachel was back. Because of course she was.

She was sitting on the bed. Like, just sitting there. Not doing homework or reading or listening to music or anything.

"Hi, Rachel," Tina said. "Feeling better?"

Rachel looked at her blankly. "Huh?"

"Lou said you were home sick. Are you feeling better?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"Good." Tina climbed onto her bed with her copy of _The Tempest_. She thought she might as well try to read a little bit of it before dorm checks. Dr. Hellman was nearly as obsessed with it as he was with Whitman. Kind of a weird choice since it was supposedly an American literature class.

"Sunday was Mothers' Day," Rachel said after a few minutes, making Tina lose her place.

"Uh, yeah, I know." Tina had spent Mothers' Day with her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. It would have been weird if no one had mentioned what day it was. "Is that why you went home? Cause I thought..." Tina didn't think Rachel's mother was in the picture at all.

"No. It's just an observation."

"Oh." _Oh_. Tina hadn't seen any evidence of Rachel having had a period yet. "And you're getting more worried that...?"

"No, actually. I know for a fact that I'm not pregnant."

"That's so great! Rachel, I'm so glad to hear that!" Tina leaned over the edge of her bunk to smile at Rachel and give her a thumbs-up.

"Yeah," Rachel said. She didn't return the smile or the gesture. "There's no way I could have a baby at my age. No way."

"Well, no."

"I'm giving up boys, in fact. I have to really focus on school and on my singing. Boys are just a distraction."

"Um, okay." Tina didn't realize there were any boys to give up. Maybe she meant she would finally stop pining for Puck, which would be nice. Tina was tired of hearing about him.

Since she didn't have the room to herself as she'd hoped, she said sure when Scott asked if she wanted to hang out after dorm checks. It was drizzling a little, but it wasn't cold or anything, and with a hoodie on it wasn't that bad.

They walked around the building, and Scott asked her about her trip home and her great-grandmother's party, but he didn't ask about what Nathan had said. Tina wondered if he had forgotten. She almost didn't want to bring it up either but then decided to. "Remember what I was going to ask my cousin about?"

"Oh, yeah. If she...if he knew where we could get some pot? What did he say?"

"He said he didn't. Sorry."

"No big deal. I'll see if I can get some over Memorial Day."

They kept walking and neither of them brought it up again. Tina didn't realize she'd been nervous about it until she noticed how relieved she was that he didn't seem to think it was a big deal.

**May 19, 2011**

The boys' dorm was the setting of the Great Wedgie War of 2011, which had been going on for a couple weeks now. Blaine and Sam were among the few who hadn't become involved yet, mainly because they were spending most of their free time in their room. But their lack of involvement so far meant their guard was down.

Sam was hanging out with some guys in B wing when a skirmish broke out. He didn't see what started it, but he was one of the first ones to get wedgied. One minute he was just standing there and the next he had someone pulling his underwear way the hell up in his crack. Finn Hudson, that bastard! It fucking hurt.

He did the only thing he could do: dig the underwear out of his ass and then chase Finn around the dorm trying to get revenge. He managed to tackle him as he was halfway into his room. Finn was face down on the floor, head in his room, feet out in the hall. Sam sat on his back and pulled his waistband as far as it would stretch.

"Okay, man, you got me!" Finn yelled. "I give up!"

Sam let up a little bit, which was a huge tactical error, because soon Finn had not only gotten out from under him, but he was on top of him, straddling his stomach. Crap, he really hoped Finn wasn't going to reach into the front of his pants, because he had somehow gotten hard during the struggle. And as he was trying to wiggle free, he noticed that Finn was hard too. Finn didn't seem to be freaked out about it...maybe he didn't even notice. Except when an RC walked by and made them break it up, he did look a little relieved.

Sam went to his room and, thank God, Blaine was there, sitting at his desk doing some homework. Sam stood behind him and draped his arms around him. "Are you busy?" he whispered in his ear.

"Yeah, kinda," Blaine said.

"Well, can you look at something for me? I got hurt and I want you to tell me how bad it is."

Blaine swiveled in his chair and looked at him. "You got hurt? What happened?"

"Finn wedgied me. You wanna see?"

"Sam," Blaine said. He had to suppress a grin. "Did he really hurt you? Or do you just want me to stop what I'm doing and look at your ass because you know what that'll do to me?"

"Um. Both?"

Blaine stopped suppressing the grin. "Drop 'em then."

Sam pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees and stood there in front of Blaine.

Blaine lightly stroked his hard cock. "I can't see your supposed injury like this. Turn around." Sam started to shuffle around, and Blaine told him, "Take your pants all the way off." He removed them, along with his shoes and underwear, and kicked them out of the way before turning.

"Jesus, Sam, your ass is so..." He squeezed with both hands. "Jesus." He planted a wet kiss on one cheek. "I don't see any marks, though."

"You might have to, um, look closer." He turned to face the desk, and Blaine got out of his chair and stood behind him. Sam bent over and rested his elbows on the desk.

"Sam? You don't want me to...Do you?"

"No. I mean, yeah. But I'm not ready yet."

"Okay." Blaine reached forward to touch again. "Because seeing you like this makes me really want to..."

"Sorry," Sam said.

He started to stand up, but Blaine's hand on his back gently pushed him back down. Blaine ran a finger down his crack and spread his cheeks. Sam spread his legs a little farther. "Fuck, Sam. It looks fine back here. Perfect."

"No, uh—" Sam gasped as Blaine dragged his fingers across his balls. "No marks or anything?"

"No marks or anything." He pressed a finger against Sam's hole, and Sam moaned and pressed his ass back into his hand. "You like that?"

"Uh huh. You could put it in, a little, if you want. Your finger, I mean."

Blaine did. He slid his middle finger in, just a little. It was warm and a little squishy and probably wouldn't have been his first choice of places to put his finger except that Sam seemed to like it _so much_. Sam was humming and rocking back on it, pushing it deeper into himself. Blaine reached around with his other hand and started to jerk him.

"Fuck, Blaine. That's so good." He alternated between thrusting forward into one hand and backward onto the other, all the while repeating, "So good, so good." When he felt himself start to come he bit down on his arm to keep from making too much noise. He pumped into Blaine's fist as an intense orgasm washed through him, shooting come on the floor and the desk, on his own t-shirt and on Blaine's hand.

He rested his head on his arms and didn't move while Blaine wiped his hands off on his shirt. Then he pulled the shirt off and started to stand, but Blaine put a hand on his back. "Please don't move yet, Sammy. You look so hot and so dirty like that." So he stayed like that while Blaine stood behind him and took his clothes off. "Sammy, I wanna fuck you so bad, just like this."

"Blaine..."

"When you're ready. Not now, when you're ready." He stepped forward and pressed his cock against Sam's ass, so it nestled in his crack. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah. It...might make me hard again."

Blaine smiled. "I can deal with that." He thrust so his cock rubbed between Sam's cheeks. "Still okay?"

"Better than okay. Are you gonna come on my ass? Cause I'd like that."

Blaine held onto Sam's hips and continued to thrust hard against him. "I am gonna come all over your ass. Your beautiful, perfect ass. And you know what I'm gonna be thinking about when I do?"

"What, Blaine?"

"Oh, fuck, Sam. I'm gonna be thinking about how good it will feel when I come _in_ your ass when you'll let me. How I'll slide my cock in and your ass will feel so good, and so tight, and I'll pound you and pound you, and you'll fucking love it, you'll be like...Oh God!" He tightened his grip on Sam's hips and choked back a strangled cry.

"I'll be like, 'Fuck me, Blaine, I fucking love your cock. I love it in my ass.'" Sam kept talking while Blaine helplessly rutted against him, coming all over his ass and back. "'Fuck me harder, Blaine. Fuck me. Fuck me!'" He didn't stop talking until he was covered with come and he felt Blaine slump against his back.

They stayed like that for a minute or two before Blaine straightened up, picked up Sam's t-shirt and cleaned them both off with it. While he was trying to get Sam's come out of the carpet, he asked, "Do you think you'll really like it? Bottoming, I mean?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "But I wanna do it for you. You'll...you'll do it for me too, won't you?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, though he sort of felt himself clench even as he said it. "Yeah, of course."


	27. Everything

**June 1, 2011**

Finals were next week and there were no more performances to practice for, so instead of a last glee practice, Mr. Schuester took the Osgoode Vibrations to the mall for ice cream. Tina was reminded that she never had collected on her bet with Blaine. Maybe this summer she'd make him buy her that sundae.

Blaine and Sam both ordered pistachio ice cream. They kept making weird faces and giggling at each other while they ate it. Tina wedged herself between them. "I don't know what your deal is, guys, but knock it off. There's something very not-just-friends about the way you're acting."

Blaine blushed a little. "Thanks, Tina." He got up and moved to a different table to talk to Kurt. Soon Brittany and Santana joined Tina and Sam and asked their plans for the summer.

"Waiting tables and getting my driver's license," Sam said.

"Nothing really for the first half," Tina said. She couldn't really think about getting a job without a driver's license, and she wouldn't even be sixteen until the end of summer. Besides, who would hire her for less than two months? "Then I'm going to camp in July."

"Camp?" Santana scoffed. "Really? I haven't been to summer camp since I was ten."

"It's for high school students. Exclusively. No ten-year-olds anywhere."

"That actually sounds perfect," Brittany said. "Because you desperately need a brief but passionate affair where you lose your virginity and gain some confidence."

Tina was speechless. Literally speechless. All she could do was gape. Sam had to step in for her. "Leave her alone, Britt. Besides, she's going out with Scott."

"We know. We've seen them together," Santana said. "They literally never touch, have you noticed that? At least one of them is severely sexually repressed, and my money's on the girl who's turning bright red just because of this conversation."

Tina stood up. "I need to go talk to Blaine and Kurt."

"It doesn't have to be with a boy!" Brittany yelled as she walked away.

"What would he have to gain by it?" Kurt was saying when Tina sat down.

"What would who have to gain by what?" she asked.

"Shh," Blaine said, looking around, although no one was paying attention to them. "I was just asking Kurt why he thought Jeff never told anyone about me and Sam. And to answer your question, Kurt, I guess what he'd have to gain by it is revenge. He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Kurt said, but Blaine gave him a look that showed that he wasn't buying it. "Okay, you're not his favorite person. I guess it's a gay-guys-sticking-together thing. Plus I think he's still pretty hung up on Sam."

"Oh!" Blaine said. "So he thinks we'll break up and he doesn't want to ruin his chances."

"That," Kurt said, "or, if you want to be more charitable—which I know you're not inclined to be when it comes to Jeff—it's because he actually really cares about Sam and doesn't want to hurt him."

Blaine just made an unconvinced grunt in response. Meanwhile there was a large kid wearing dark sunglasses standing just outside the ice cream parlor trying to get Kurt's attention. When Kurt noticed him he jumped up and ran over. They talked for a minute and then Kurt sort of dragged him inside and over to the table.

"Dave, these are my friends Tina and Blaine. Guys, this is my boyfriend, Dave Ka—"

"Just Dave," he said. He gave them a little wave, and they gave him one back. "Kurt, let's get out of here."

"Hold on, I want you to meet Rachel and Mercedes." He dragged him over to another table.

"Wow, charming guy," Tina said.

Blaine nodded. "I think he's pretty far in the closet."

They saw Dave try to lead Kurt out, but Kurt pulled back and went to talk to Mr. Schuester. It was a good thing, too; Mr. Schue probably wouldn't be too happy if he just disappeared.

Mr. Schuester got everyone's attention and announced to the group that they could walk around the mall for a while if they wanted. They had to meet by the front entrance at six. Dave and Kurt were the first to leave.

"Are you gonna look for something for Sam's birthday?" Tina asked. "I could keep him busy."

"No. I have something already...planned." The look on his face when he said _planned_ told Tina she did not want to know any more about it. "I'm gonna see if he wants to look around," Blaine said right before he stood up. "Oh, uh, do you wanna come too?"

Tina could tell she wasn't wanted, so she said no thanks. She ended up in a group with Mercedes, Rachel, and Jeff. Mercedes and Rachel commandeered them into Macy's and spent _a lot_ of time trying on shoes while Jeff and Tina sat there.

Jeff was better at faking enthusiasm than Tina was, in that he bothered trying at all. He made some comment about each pair they tried on, whereas Tina sort of zoned out of the whole thing. She did not care about shoes...unless they were Chuck Taylors. Chucks were the only kind of shoe she wore because they came in lots of different colors, they were comfortable, and, most importantly, they were not leather. All the shoes Rachel and Mercedes tried on were leather. Not to mention kind of ugly and ridiculously overpriced.

Tina was glad to get back to campus and just walk around the building with Scott. He had failed to bring back any pot after Memorial Day, and they never really talked about it again. They didn't make any plans to do anything more than they'd been doing all along. They just kept up with their walking and talking, which was nice, even if it was a sexually repressed activity.

**June 3, 2011**

They weren't supposed to bring food or drinks to class, but it was the last day, and Tina really needed that Red Bull to stay awake during the second half of the movie version of _The Tempest _they were going to watch. So she hoped Dr. Hellman either wouldn't notice or would let it slide.

They'd watched the first two thirds of the movie Wednesday and Thursday, and those had been hard enough to pay attention during. But now they were up to the part that was past where Tina had actually read, so she really hoped she could get something out of it today. Because they had to write a final paper instead of take a final exam, and it was on_ The Tempest_, and despite the fact that Dr. Hellman had been rambling on and on about the play for the last God knows how many weeks, Tina was still a little unclear on what actually happened in it.

But it was no use. Of course it was no use, because she didn't fucking care about _The Tempest_ and she couldn't fucking make herself care. She was awake enough, thanks to the Red Bull, but instead of helping her concentrate it made her fidgety. And she had this song going through her head, "Kiss Off." It was really old but she had never heard of it until Pauline played it for her last week and it was so great she'd been listening to it almost constantly since then. And so she spent most of the movie writing out the lyrics in the notebook she had intended to take actual notes in. "And ten, ten, ten, ten for everything, everything, everything, EVERYTHING." Fucking genius. Okay, not the line itself, but the way the guy sang it.

When the movie was over they got their topics for their papers. Dr. Hellman had actually written out different topics on little slips of paper and made them each draw one out of a hat. An actual hat, like a fedora. And then he wrote each kid's name on the slip they drew so they couldn't trade. They had to staple the slip to their paper, which meant they had to print out the paper and bring it to the school next week instead of e-mailing it, which gave them, like, fifteen minutes less to work on it.

"What did you get?" she asked Blaine as they left the classroom.

"'Discuss the role of magic in _The Tempest_.' You?"

Tina looked at her slip for the first time. "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. 'Discuss Shakespeare's use of comedy in _The Tempest._' Was there _anything_ funny in that play?" Blaine gave her a sympathetic smile. "No, I'm serious. That's not a rhetorical question."

"There were a couple parts that were supposed to be funny, I think," Blaine said.

"Oh my God. I am so fucked."

XOXOXO

Sam met Blaine outside the dance studio. He had already showered—they had realized pretty early on that the tiny showers in the rooms were no good for messing around in. Sam resisted the urge to kiss him and said, "So how was your _last class_ of sophomore year?"

"Pretty good," Blaine said. "You do know we still have a week of finals, right?"

"Dude, don't rain on my parade! I think we should celebrate." He gave Blaine a wink. As if Blaine might not know what he meant otherwise!

They ran back to the room, where they stripped each other and enjoyed celebratory blowjobs. Not that they were much different from their now-everyday blowjobs. They were still awesome, and also kind of a necessity.

Afterward they lay naked in Blaine's bed, Blaine with his head on Sam's chest, Sam's arm wrapped around him. "What are we going to do this summer without this?"

"Um. Explode, probably," Sam said. "Or go through lots and lots of Kleenex."

"Seriously, Sam. I'm going to miss you. And not _just _because of this."

"I'm gonna miss you too," Sam said, kissing him. "But as soon as I get my license I'll visit any time my parents let me borrow the car."

"Speaking of your sixteenth birthday..." Blaine said, stroking Sam's chest.

"Which is tomorrow," Sam added.

"Which is tomorrow," Blaine agreed, "I hate to ruin the surprise, but, I should probably tell you what I had in mind. So if you don't want it, I can get you something else."

"Ooh! Yeah, tell me! I can totally act surprised!"

"Well..." Blaine rolled on top of Sam and rested his chin on his chest. "I was thinking..." He made a lazy circle with his tongue around each of Sam' nipples. Sam put his hands on Blaine's back and slid them down until they were on his ass. "Remember how you asked me if I'd..." He paused here not to do anything in particular to Sam but because he felt weird just coming out and saying it. "...if I'd, um, bottom for you some time?"

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Sam asked, giving Blaine's ass a squeeze.

"What do you think I'm suggesting?"

"That you'll let me fuck you in the ass tomorrow?"

Just hearing that so...so _bluntly_...made Blaine shiver. A not entirely good shiver. He was pretty sure it was going to hurt. Like, a lot. He had to force himself to say it back. Because if he couldn't say it, how could he do it? Or...let it be done to him? "Do you want to fuck me in the ass?"

"Of course I want to. Isn't that what every guy with a hot boyfriend with an amazing ass wants?" Blaine really did have an amazing ass. Sam loved just touching it every chance he got. "Do _you_ want me too, though? I mean, I know I asked you if you'd do it some time and you said yes, but I didn't think you were ready."

"I'm ready," Blaine said—but his voice cracked a little and he didn't know if Sam would believe him. He was still trying to convince himself. "And, I mean, it's your birthday, and it's almost summer so we won't see each other for a while..."

"Baby..." Sam had never called Blaine baby before, but somehow this seemed like as good a time as any to start. "I would love to fuck you. You can feel how much I love just talking about it, just thinking about it." He moved Blaine's hand to his hard-again dick, and it jumped at the touch. "But only if you're really, really sure."

"Yeah. I'm really, really sure." He sounded more confident this time. He sounded more confident because he had psyched himself up to sound confident. "I love your cock," he said, stroking it. "I can't wait to feel it...inside me." He bit his lip.

"God, Blaine. I want you so bad." He slid out from under him, leaving Blaine lying face down on the bed. "You're so hot. So fucking gorgeous." He kind of couldn't get over how fucking gorgeous Blaine was, in fact. "Can I draw you like this some time?"

"Oh! Uh..."

"So fucking gorgeous," Sam repeated. He gently pushed Blaine's legs apart and spread his cheeks. "Oh my God." There it was. The hole he'd be putting his dick into. It looked so...so small. How would he...? He wrapped his hand around his cock and squeezed it tight to get a sense of what it might feel like, and...Jesus.

He put a finger in, and Blaine recoiled and moved up the bed, away from him. "I'm sorry, Blaine! Did that hurt?"

"No," Blaine said. "No, I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting it."

"I'm sorry, baby! Can I...if I try it again when you are expecting it, would that be okay?"

"Um, sure. Do you maybe wanna use a little lube?"

"We have lube?"

"Yeah, I, uh...bought some for tomorrow."

"Wow, you thought of everything. I can wait till tomorrow." He kissed the spot where Blaine's cheek met the back of his thigh. He moved his mouth, licking and sucking, around to Blaine's inner thigh, where he lingered for a bit before taking his balls into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck, Sam!"

"Was that a better surprise than the other one?" Sam asked after a minute of sucking.

"Best surprise ever," Blaine said. "Please don't stop."

Sam flipped him over onto his back and stroked his cock while he resumed sucking his balls. When he felt Blaine getting close, he moved up between his legs and rubbed their cocks together. He wrapped his hand around them, and he and Blaine both thrust into his fist and against each other. "I can't wait for tomorrow, baby, when you're gonna take my cock in your ass. Do you want it, Blaine? Do you want my cock in your ass?" He started to come before Blaine could answer. "Fuck, Blaine. _Fuck_."

Blaine tried to block out thoughts of having Sam's cock in his ass and concentrate instead on how it felt right now, against his. And _that_ was pretty amazing. "I love your cock," he said. "God, Sam, I love your—ah!" He reached up to grab Sam's hair as he came.

As their mingled come flowed down Blaine's side, Sam released their dicks from his grip and laid his head on Blaine's chest. "God, if just that was so awesome, I can't even imagine how amazing tomorrow is going to be."

Blaine murmured something that he hoped sounded like agreement. He was so fucked.


	28. Sam's Sweet Sixteen

**June 4, 2011**

Sam rolled over, still half asleep, and nestled his head into the crook of Blaine's neck. Even without opening his eyes he could tell the room was filled with sunlight, but he wasn't ready to get up yet. He dozed a while longer before being awakened by Blaine's hand brushing his hair off his face. He opened his eyes and Blaine kissed him gently and said, "Good morning, birthday boy!"

Closing his eyes again, Sam snuggled Blaine like a giant teddy bear and mumbled, "Birthday boy want sleep."

When he woke up again, after sleeping for he didn't know how much longer, Blaine was sleeping curled against him. The last thing he wanted to do was wake him, but he really had to pee now, so he carefully disentangled himself and got out of bed. He looked around the room and forgot all about not wanting to wake Blaine. "Oh my God! When did you do this?"

Blaine looked at him groggily, one eye open. "What?"

"When did you decorate the room?" There were balloons and crepe paper all over the wall and a handmade "Happy Birthday" banner on the wardrobe.

"Oh, uh...last night. After you fell asleep. Do you like it?"

"I _love_ it!" He stepped closer to the wardrobe to take a closer look at the sign. The letters were formed out of images cut from magazine pages. The initial H, in fact, was made of lots of tiny images glued together. "This H is amazing. It must've taken you forever."

"Yeah. That's actually why I only did it with the one letter. I originally planned to do it with all of them, but..."

"It's awesome. I love it."

Blaine got out of bed and threw on the clothes he'd worn the day before. "Get back in bed," he said.

"I have to pee."

"Fine, but then get back in bed."

Blaine was gone when Sam got out of the bathroom, but he got back in bed as instructed. He was starting to doze off again when Blaine returned, carrying a plate with a hot breakfast sandwich and a bunch of strawberries and a mug full of what turned out to be chocolate milk. "Blaine! What...?"

"Breakfast in bed, obviously."

"Aww!" Sam sat up in bed. "Shit, I can't believe I just said 'Aww!'"

"That's okay," Blaine said. "The 'shit' makes up for it." He pulled a chair over next to the bed to set the food on and then sat next to Sam on the bed. "Happy birthday."

"Aww!" Sam said again, right before he fed Blaine one of the strawberries. "I love you."

Blaine blushed. "If I knew it would make you fall in love with me I would've served you breakfast in bed a long time ago."

"I didn't just fall in love with you this morning." He looked into Blaine's eyes and touched his cheek. "It's just that I never managed to say it until now."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Because I love you too."

XOXOXO

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sam asked once more, as he slid his hands up under Blaine's shirt.

"Yeah. Just remember to...go real slow."

Sam laughed at Blaine's remarkable impression of Dan Akroyd in _Sneakers_. Of course, the line was used in a slightly different context in the movie. "We have over three hours till room checks, so that shouldn't be a problem." He pulled Blaine's shirt off and kissed his chest. "You may have to sort of tell me what to do. I mean, I'm sure you've seen more...you know, more gay porn than I have, so you probably know more about, like, positions and whatever else."

"I wanna be able to see you during. So, like, not on my hands and knees or anything." He leaned his head back while Sam kissed his neck.

"Got it." Sam took a step back and pulled his t-shirt off. "Also...I probably should've asked you this before now, but...condoms? I mean, we're both virgins so it seems kind of silly, but if you think we should..."

"Yeah, I don't see any reason to," Blaine said. _Always use condoms _had been drilled into him by his parents and older brother ever since he came out, and he knew it was a good rule in general, but this was Sam. Sam, who had never done this before either, so he couldn't possibly give him an STD. Or knock him up, obviously.

He knelt in front of Sam and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Sam drew in a quick breath as Blaine mouthed his cock through the fabric of his briefs. Then Blaine pulled the jeans and the briefs down to his knees and just...just looked at Sam's erect penis. It had never seemed so _big_ before. That was good, though, obviously, because every gay guy wanted a boyfriend with a huge cock. And probably straight girls did too...Blaine wouldn't really know or care about that, except that straight girls were his main competition when it came to Sam. Not that he was afraid that if he didn't take Sam's cock up his ass that Sam would dump him for a girl who better appreciated his large penis. No, he totally believed Sam when he said Blaine didn't have to do this if he didn't want to. It was just..._Jesus, Blaine, focus._ He did want this. He was ready. He kissed and licked his boyfriend's huge cock and made him moan and grab his hair.

And then Sam was kneeling too, kissing him, undoing his fly, and putting his hands down his underwear to grab his ass. "Are you ready?" Sam asked.

"Um...if you mean am I ready for you to fuck me right this minute, then no. You have to, like, do stuff to me first. Stuff to my...ass."

"Yeah?" Sam crawled around so he was behind Blaine. He reached out and stroked his ass. Blaine stood because he _really_ didn't want to end up on his hands and knees with Sam behind him. Sam didn't stop touching just because Blaine was standing, and in fact he started sort of kissing and licking. Not kissing and licking Blaine's ass_hole_, thank God, because...ew. If porn was any indication, it wasn't that uncommon for guys to do that, but Blaine always fast-forwarded or closed his eyes when there was a rimming scene. "What kind of stuff?" Sam asked.

"Like, um, fingering me? So it's sort of...stretched out a little before you start?"

"You want me to use lube?"

"Yeah. Lots of lube. It's supposed to be easier when things are...slippery." Blaine opened his desk drawer and took out a big bottle of lube. He handed it to Sam.

"This is like half a gallon," Sam said. "I know you just said to use a lot, but I hope this bottle is for multiple uses."

Blaine chuckled. "I thought it would be less embarrassing to have to buy lube just once. But the look I got...yeah, four regular-sized bottles on four different trips to the store would have been way less embarrassing."

"I bet we could find a place to order this stuff online. I mean, not that we'll probably be running out any time soon."

"Yeah, but then my bank would have a record of it. At least with this I paid cash so it's untraceable."

"You really thought this through, then," Sam said. But Blaine was feeling less and less like he'd thought anything through at all. "So, uh, how...? Do you wanna lay on your stomach, or...?"

"Yeah. That should work." Blaine pulled his comforter and sheets back and lay face down, head turned toward Sam. But then Sam nudged his legs apart and knelt between them and he couldn't see him anymore.

He heard Sam say, "I'm gonna squirt this on you now" right before he felt the cold liquid hit his ass. And then he spread it around, sort of between his cheeks in general and not on (or in!) his hole specifically, and that felt all right. "Should I put some extra on my finger before I—"

"Yes. Please." Blaine knew he was supposed to relax, that it would be more comfortable if he relaxed, but he just couldn't. And so Sam had to really push to get in, which made him clench harder.

"Is that okay so far?"

"Just give me a second." He had to relax. If he was freaking out at just the tip of Sam's finger, how the hell was he going to...? Okay. He just needed to take some deep breaths and it would be okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. There. Now Sam was rubbing his back. That helped. Another breath in. Another breath out. "Okay. Go ahead."

It took _forever_—and many reassurances to Sam that he was fine—for Blaine to be able to tolerate an entire finger. God, some birthday present! He was terrible at this. And being the 100 percent gay one in the couple, he should be the one who could handle this sort of thing.

And Sam was being so patient! Blaine knew he probably wasn't stretched enough, but he didn't want to keep Sam waiting all night. And besides, he was just being a baby and once Sam's dick was in, he'd probably be fine. Or if not, at least it would be over with sooner.

He turned over onto his back. He stroked Sam's cock and then pulled him in for a kiss. "I'm ready. I want you to fuck me now."

"Baby," Sam said softly, "it really doesn't seem like—"

"No, I am. For real. I really want you to. Just...hand me the lube for a second." He applied some extra lube to himself and then slathered a handful on Sam. The lube made his cock really shiny and slippery, and the slathering made Sam tilt his head back and moan. "Okay," Blaine said. "Now."

It took a minute or two to get Blaine's legs positioned and his ass angled right. And then Sam had his cock lined up and ready to go, and he didn't ask again but he did look questioningly at Blaine, and Blaine nodded.

And he pushed in really slowly...really, really slowly. But it was still too much and Blaine stopped breathing for a second and he sort of started to panic and he wasn't totally sure if it actually hurt that much or if it just scared him into thinking it hurt that much and he stopped breathing again because he knew if he took a breath it was going to come out as crying. But he couldn't hold his breath forever, and when he breathed again he did start crying, and Sam pulled out immediately and held him.

"I'm sorry," Sam told him, stroking his hair and back as Blaine cried into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's my fault," Blaine said between sobs. "I wanted to do this for you, Sam. I'm sorry."

Sam shushed him and held him and kissed him until he stopped crying.

"I'm sorry your birthday ended this way. I really wanted to—"

"Stop. First of all, my birthday was awesome. I've never had someone bring me breakfast in bed before or persuade a whole cafeteria of kids to sing 'Happy Birthday' to me. And second, even if my birthday had sucked, that would be the last thing on my mind right now. The first thing on my mind—the _only_ thing on my mind—is that I hurt you, and I never should have gone that far when I knew you were uncomfortable."

"But I told you to."

"Yeah, but still."

They were quiet for a few minutes before Blaine said, "I'll still let you sometime. I just don't know when."

"There's no rush." Sam brushed some hair away from Blaine's eyes before he added, "I think next time we try this, you should fuck me. Because I actually really liked when you fingered me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, totally."

"That's good to know. Oh, you know I can still..." He reached for Sam's cock but Sam shifted so he missed it.

"It's okay. Let's just lay here."

"If we do that I'm gonna fall asleep." Crying was exhausting.

"That's okay." Sam turned on the alarm they had set for 10:45, the one they always used when they had to wake up to put some clothes on before room checks. "I could use a nap myself."

They were both asleep within minutes.


	29. Presidents & Pasta Primavera

**June 5, 2011**

Sam looked totally adorable when he slept. Blaine could just sit and watch him for hours. He was tempted to do just that, in fact, but Kurt would kill him. "Sam." Blaine gently shook his shoulder. "Sammy."

Sam rolled toward the wall and mumbled, "Sleep good."

"Sam," Blaine said, much more loudly. He pulled off the sheets and blankets and dropped them on the floor. "Get up. It's almost noon."

Sam gave him a very displeased look. "So? It's Sunday."

"I know, but we have to be somewhere by noon."

"Why?"

"It's my make-up birthday present to you. Come on."

They _just_ made it to the Walgreens across the street at noon. Kurt was waiting for them outside the front door. "I was worried you guys wouldn't make it. You were almost late."

"Yeah, you know, I think there's a word for _almost late_. It's _on time_," Sam said. He was still a little grumpy that Blaine had woken him and wouldn't tell him what they were doing.

"_On time_ is two words," Kurt countered. "Oh, here he is!" A blue Corolla pulled up to the curb. Kurt opened the front passenger door and said, "Hi, babe."

Blaine opened the rear passenger side door. Sam peeked inside and saw who was driving. "Oh, hi...uh, Dave, right?"

Blaine whispered to him, "Get in, Sam. I'm holding the door open for you to be chivalrous." Somehow that struck Sam as the weirdest thing so far about going out with a guy. But he didn't say that, he just got in the car. Blaine got in the other side and Dave took off without waiting for them to fasten their seatbelts or anything.

Kurt turned around. "You guys signed out, right?"

"Yeah, we put that we're going to North Plaza," Blaine said.

"Anyone wanna tell me where we're actually going?" Sam asked.

"Dayton," Dave said.

"Dayton? Why? That's like an hour away."

"Because we have never been on an actual date," Blaine said. "And that changes today."

XOXOXO

"Okay. Washington. Adams?" Tina looked at Brooke for confirmation, but Brooke maintained a perfect poker face. "Jefferson. Monroe? Van Buren? Some guy and then John Quincy Adams?"

"You suck at this," Brooke said.

"I know!" Tina dropped her head in her hands. Their history teacher had told them the final would be mostly essay questions, but there would be a part where they had to name all the U.S. presidents in order. Tina knew she wouldn't have time to reread (or, in some cases, read for the first time) all the materials that might be covered in the essay questions, but she'd be damned if she couldn't memorize a list of forty-five or so names. "I guess I better read through the list a few more times before you try to quiz me again."

"Okay, but first quiz me." Brooke got all the way to Ulysses Grant before she fucked up.

"Ha! You suck too! Just not as bad."

Brooke stood up and walked to her wardrobe. She picked out some clean clothes and announced she was going to take a shower. She went into the bathroom but then came back out and grabbed her list of the presidents and a roll of tape. Tina asked what she was doing, and she said, "Taping this to the inside of the shower so I can study it," as if it were the most normal thing and why would Tina even have to ask?

Tina set her list in front of her and tried to memorize it. But her hair kept falling into her line of vision and distracting her. Particularly the blonde streak that she had now that the electric lizard green had faded completely. The blonde was boring. She'd been thinking of coloring it again. She'd even bought more dyes—a couple different colors, since she hadn't decided yet which she wanted.

And then it occurred to her that she should do all three: one streak of "purple haze," one of "pillarbox red," and one of the electric lizard she had leftover from before. And she could braid them together and it'd look awesome. She'd have to bleach more of her hair first, of course, but that was fine, she still had bleach. And for the streak that was going to be pillarbox red, she could only bleach it once, because the red on top of the orange hair would probably look really cool, plus when the dyes faded she'd be left with two blonde streaks and one orange one.

"Brooke!" she yelled. "Can I dye my hair in your bathroom?" There was no reason this would have to interfere with their studying too much. Most of the time it took to dye your hair was just sitting-around time anyway.

"Sure!" Brooke called back.

"Cool! I'll be back in a few!"

XOXOXO

"Thanks, Kurt. And Dave!" Blaine said. "I know this was short notice for you." He'd called Kurt at ten that morning with the idea.

"I sometimes think Kurt only likes me for my car," Dave said. "And how popular it makes him."

Kurt slapped him on the arm. "We've never been on a double date before. This is gonna be fun!"

"I've never been around so many gay guys at once," Dave said. No one knew how to respond to that, and there was silence for a few minutes.

Finally Sam asked, "Do you guys go to Dayton a lot?"

"We've been a few times. Mostly we just hang out at Dave's." Dave smiled at that and Kurt blushed slightly.

Dave drove them to a multiplex movie theater. Blaine and Sam decided to see the new X-Men movie and Dave and Kurt go to the latest Pirates of the Caribbean. Kurt and Dave's movie started first; after they left, Sam said to Blaine, "I didn't expect Kurt to be a fan of pirates."

"I think he's more a fan of Johnny Depp," Blaine said.

It was still going to be about ten minutes until they started letting people into the X-Men theater. They already had their giant popcorn and their giant drink to share, and they were just standing around. Just like two guys, like two friends, seeing a movie together. And Sam thought it was a waste to have come all the way to Dayton just to act like they weren't on a date. So he grabbed Blaine's hand and laced their fingers together.

Blaine glanced around. Engaging in any kind of PDA with a guy—even doing something as tame and innocent as holding hands—was as new to him as it was to Sam. He didn't know how people would react. And they were out in the real world, not at OHIO, where he wouldn't have thought twice about holding hands in public with Sam if it weren't for the whole roommate situation.

No one seemed to be paying attention to them in the slightest. It was surprisingly thrilling. Straight couples probably took this for granted. He wanted to kiss Sam, but he was pretty sure someone would notice that. Instead he whispered in his ear, "Is it weird that I'm super excited that you're holding my hand?"

Sam whispered back, "I don't think so. The Beatles wrote a whole song about wanting to hold someone's hand."

"True," Blaine said, "but they also wrote a completely nonsensical song about a walrus."

"Nonsensical!? Does 'goo goo goo joob' mean _nothing_ to you!?"

XOXOXO

"Can't talk, gotta pee," Ellen announced as she threw open the door to the room and immediately ducked into the bathroom.

Pauline followed her into the room—but not the bathroom—and simply said, "Hey," to Brooke and Tina.

"What have you guys been _doing_?" Ellen called from the bathroom.

"Just studying for the history final," Brooke yelled back.

The toilet flushed and the bathroom door opened. "Since when does studying leave multicolored stains all over the bathroom sink and floor?"

"Sorry!" Tina said. "I'll clean that up after I rinse the dye out."

Ellen frowned at Brooke. To Tina she said, "Are you planning to do that here?"

"I told her it's fine," Brooke said.

Pauline picked up the jar of pillarbox red dye and examined it. "Hey, this is a great color. Could I use some of it? In my own room, I mean."

Tina told her to use as much as she wanted and Brooke told her to go ahead and use the bathroom there. She took the jar into the bathroom, and Tina followed to help her. She put her towel around Pauline's shoulders to protect her shirt, except she sort of forgot to take into account that the towel already had a significant amount of dye on it. "Oh my God! Oh shit! I am _so _sorry!" Tina said when she saw the stains on Pauline's t-shirt.

"It's cool," Pauline said. "This'll just be my hair coloring shirt from now on."

"You're very understanding."

"Next year _our_ room will be hair-coloring party central."

"Yeah, and we won't even bother _trying _to clean up the spills. It'll be, like, our décor."

Pauline laughed. "And at the end of the year, we'll turn in our bathroom as our final project for art."

Shit, that reminded Tina of one more thing she still had to work on. But fuck it, there was still a full study day tomorrow.

From outside the bathroom they kept hearing one line of a song played over and over: "I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control."

"Do you think we have to worry about whichever of them keeps playing that?" Tina whispered. When they finished covering Pauline's hair with all the red dye that was left, they went out and saw that it was Ellen and that she was just working on a video. They'd seen her work before and they knew she obsessed about every little detail, so they didn't have to worry about her mental state—not any more than usual, anyway.

"Okay, back to history," Brooke announced. "Pauline. U.S. presidents. Go."

"Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Adams, Jackson, Van Buren, Harrison, Tyler, Polk, Taylor, Fillmore, Pierce, Buchanan, Lincoln, Johnson, Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Arthur, Cleveland, Harrison, Cleveland, McKinley, Roosevelt, Taft, Wilson, Harding, Coolidge, Hoover, Roosevelt, Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, Bush, Obama."

"What the fuck," Tina said. "How did you do that?"

Pauline shrugged. "We were supposed to memorize them, weren't we?"

"Very impressive," Brooke said. "Okay. Tina, go."

"Uh, no. There is no fucking way I'm following _that_."

XOXOXO

Sam held onto Blaine's hand during the movie, in the car, and in the restaurant they went to for dinner. He didn't regret keeping their boyfriendhood secret at school, but this was actually really cool. They even traded little kisses a few times, but no heavy PDA.

Kurt and Dave did not touch at all. And Dave hardly even talked. Sam did catch him staring longingly at Kurt a few times. He probably would have much rather been at his house having sex with Kurt.

"So, Dave," Blaine said, "Kurt said you play football?"

"Yeah."

"Oh yeah?" Sam said. "I used to play. What position are you?"

"Guard."

"He's great," Kurt said. "No one gets past him. And he looks _very_ sexy in those tight little pants." Dave blushed like crazy and looked around. He shot Kurt a shut-up look and Kurt whispered back, "What? You do."

The table fell silent for a few minutes as they studied their menus. Blaine couldn't decide what he wanted. Kurt had mentioned that he and Dave had been to this restaurant before, so he asked Kurt what he recommended.

"The Greek salad is good. Or the—oh!" Kurt jumped a little and glanced at Dave, blushing. Blaine suppressed his curiosity and did not look under the table to see what was going on down there. "Or the pasta primavera."

"I was thinking more like a burger." It seemed like forever since he had eaten a decent burger.

"Then why did you ask me?"

"Because I don't know which kind—"

"Bacon cheeseburger," Dave said.

That would have been practically his last choice of the available burgers, but since it was the first thing Dave had said voluntarily, he felt obligated to take his suggestion. He ended up switching with Sam, who ordered the mushroom-Swiss burger, when Dave wasn't looking.

The burgers were huge, as was Kurt's pasta, and everyone but Dave got leftovers boxed up. But even though they were full, Blaine insisted on ordering chocolate cake for Sam. He and Kurt sang "Happy Birthday," and some of the other diners joined in.

Sam fed the first bite to Blaine. He got a little bit of frosting above his lip, so he cleaned it off with his tongue, and they ended up making out in the booth just a little. The father at one of the tables near them—he had seemed nice enough before and had joined in the singing, but now he was loudly telling his kids not to look. But he kept looking over, scowling, until Dave glowered back at him and asked, "Do you have a problem?"

The guy hadn't really been bothering Blaine, but he was touched that _Dave_ had stood up for them. It was the last thing he had expected. "Dave, thank you," he said. "That was so..."

"It was nothing," Dave said brusquely.


	30. One Year Down

**June 9, 2011**

Sam's brain was fried after the history final. He thought he had probably done okay on the essay questions. There were six questions to choose from and you only had to answer three. And one was about Teddy Roosevelt so he'd been able to thrown in a lot of stuff about the National Park Service. That listing all the presidents, though. What was the point of that, even?

"How are you doing?" Blaine asked as they walked out of the auditorium together. All the kids had taken their history finals together, regardless of which class they were in.

"Ugh."

"You wanna go back to the room and relax a little?"

"No!" Actually that sounded awesome. But he had exactly four hours until his geometry final, and he had to spend every minute of that time studying. "How after the math final? I'll really need to relax then."

"Sure. Are you going back to the room anyway? I promise I won't distract you."

Yeah, Sam had heard that promise before. Not that it was Blaine's fault necessarily that it was always broken. He spotted Tina and decided to ask if she wanted to study with him. "Hey Tina!" he called. "Wait up!"

Tina almost didn't turn around when she heard Sam call her name. She had not done well on the history final. She had managed to memorize all the presidents, but it turned out not to be worth that big percentage of the grade. And she pretty much hadn't studied anything else for history. So right now she didn't want to talk to anyone or see anyone or do anything other than hide under her covers for a couple hours.

But Sam was running toward her, and she could tell he knew she'd seen him, so she stopped and waited. "Do you want to hang out and study?"

"What, now? For math finals?"

"Uh huh."

Tina sighed internally. No, she did not want to study math with Sam. If she was going to do anything productive with her time, it should be writing that fucking English paper that was due tomorrow at four. Or studying for her Spanish final in the morning. Actually, though, there was no reason she couldn't study Spanish while Sam studied math. It wasn't like they'd be studying the same stuff anyway, since they were in completely different math classes.

So she said sure. Why not? She went back to her room to get her Spanish book and her calculus book—because she should study a _little_ for the calc final—and some snacks and Red Bull. Sam found them an empty classroom and started studying right away.

Sam looked like he was concentrating pretty hard when she got to the classroom, so she didn't say anything that might distract him. She sat at his table, kitty-corner from him, and put the chips and candy she had brought in the middle of the table. Hopefully he'd realize that was an invitation for him to help himself. She kept the four Red Bulls next to her, though, because there were some things she wasn't willing to share.

Tina managed to get about an hour of good studying in. Of calculus, not Spanish, because she decided she really should study for that first since the final was today. Sam asked her a couple geometry questions, but other than that she didn't lose her concentration or anything. Of course, it was math, so it concentrating wasn't hard.

It was when she made herself switch over to Spanish that she started to get jittery. So many fucking words to memorize. And where had memorizing shit ever gotten her anyway? That fucking history test. Just thinking about it made her want to... Okay, the history final was over. Spanish. She had to memorize many, many words. Muchas, muchas palabras. Oh fuck, and then there were the conjugations and all the different tenses, and Jesus Christ the fucking subjunctive was going to be the death of her.

She realized she was tapping her pencil against her notebook a lot, which was probably bothering Sam. She tried to calm down. This didn't have to be a big deal; she still had time. She probably should have taken it a little easier on the Red Bull.

Around noon Sam said he was hungry. Tina pushed the Twizzlers and Cheetos over to him, but he said he was going to get something from the cafeteria and bring it back. Would Tina like anything? "No thanks," she said.

When he was gone, Tina decided to try to work out some of the... She didn't even know what it was, exactly, besides excess caffeine and sugar. Stress? Probably, but that didn't seem specific enough. Or strong enough. It almost felt like aggression. Like...ooh, if she knew how to box or something that would be awesome. Or wrestle. Maybe Sam would wrestle with her when he got back. But no, that would sound like she was suggesting something sexual. Maybe he would box with her. But he wouldn't because they both knew he could beat the shit out of her. Maybe he would just let her punch him. She wasn't very strong, it probably wouldn't even hurt him at all.

She remembered that time Sam's knuckles were bruised from punching walls. And hey, it wasn't like she needed to ask the wall's permission to punch it. She hit the wall a couple times and it didn't even hurt. Which just went to show that she was terrible at it and weak and pathetic. No wonder Charlie could beat her up even though he was almost three years younger. She sucked.

Sam came back with a tray of food. "I got you a grilled cheese sandwich," he said.

"Aw, thanks," Tina said. She threw another lame-ass punch at the wall. "I love grilled cheese day."

"Yeah, I know." Sam set the tray on the table and walked over to her. "What are you doing?"

"Will you show me how to throw a punch?"

"At the wall? Why?"

"Stress relief. Come on, I suck at this."

"Okay. Well..." Sam took her hand and showed her how to form it into a proper fist. "Never put your thumb inside the fist or you'll break it. Okay?" Tina nodded. "And then just keep your wrist straight..." He positioned her wrist. "... and sort of use your hip to lean into it." Tina tried one. "Yeah, sort of like that, except straighter. And you want to hit with the knuckles of your index and middle fingers instead of your pinky and ring finger."

She tried a couple more. Sam said she had it, but it still didn't hurt much so she didn't think she did. But then, that wasn't necessarily because her form was wrong, it was probably just because she didn't have any strength. She couldn't expect Sam to help her with that.

"Well, I need to get back to studying," Sam said. "You know, if you don't eat your grilled cheese soon it's going to get cold."

"Yeah, you're right." Tina returned to the table too. The cafeteria's grilled cheeses were pretty gross when they were cold. Besides, she'd be better off practicing her punching without Sam there to see how horrible she was at it.

**June 11, 2011**

"Tina, I don't think this is a good idea," Blaine said as they passed Sweven on their way to the school building. It was seven a.m., the Saturday morning after the last final, and he just wanted to be in bed with Sam. Besides which, what she had planned really wasn't a good idea.

"I know you don't, Blaine. You've told me at least a dozen times."

"Because I really don't—"

"Blaine," Tina said, her voice getting high and cracky, "I've been up all night trying to finish that fucking final paper for English even though it was due yesterday and I'm a little on edge right now and I don't want to snap at you but please don't give me a lecture. I'm not forcing you to help me, you know."

"Okay. Let's just get this over with."

_This_ was stealing a painting from the art room. Not that it was really stealing. It was Tina's painting, her final project for the class. There was a thing planned for tonight, a program with lots of performances, and lots of art projects on display. A lot of the parents were coming to it. Tina was freaking out because her painting was so hideous and she didn't want anyone to see it, especially since it would be displayed alongside really good stuff.

Blaine was pretty sure it couldn't really be as bad as Tina said. And it wasn't, he decided when he saw it. It wasn't the best one there or anything, but he had definitely seen worse. It wasn't even the worst one in the classroom, in his opinion.

Not that she let him look at it for long, or up close. His job was to stand guard outside the classroom door while she took it down from the far wall. As soon as it was down she wrapped it up in a heavy sweater.

"It's gonna be obvious that something's missing from that wall," Blaine pointed out when Tina rejoined him. He was right: the paintings were all evenly spaced, and now there was a large gap.

"Yeah, I know," Tina said. "And it won't take much to figure out whose is gone. I don't even care. Maybe I have a stalker who stole it as a memento."

"It was already graded, right? You're not going to get a zero for it now?"

"Yeah, I already got my grade." A C-plus, which was humiliating enough on its own, but all the more so because it was a more generous grade than she deserved.

"Your parents are coming to the thing tonight, right?" Blaine asked while they walked back to the dorms—Blaine to go back to bed and Tina, presumably, to try to destroy or hide her painting and then finish her English paper.

"Yeah. Yours too, right?"

"Yeah. And Sam's. You didn't happen to mention to your parents that Sam and I are going out, did you?"

"Of course not. You asked me not to."

"Oh. Right. I guess I forgot I already had." He actually did remember, but he didn't want to admit that he was checking to make sure _she_ hadn't forgotten. "It's just...we don't know if our parents would let us keep rooming together—"

"I know, Blaine. And my parents might talk to yours and/or Sam's. You told me all this too. I get it."

"Sorry. I guess I'm just nervous."

For some reason the idea of Blaine having anything to be nervous about struck Tina as really funny. Because he was, like, good at everything and never seemed to have any problems. She started to giggle—like, a lot. And she kind of couldn't stop.

"You okay, Tina?"

"I guess I'm...I guess..." She was trying to say something about how it was nervous laughter, how she guessed she must be nervous on his behalf. But it never quite came out. She was still laughing when they got to the Mu sculpture, where they had to split up for Blaine to go to the boys' dorm and Tina to the girls'.

"All right," Blaine said, "finish that paper so you can get some sleep."

XOXOXO

Blaine wouldn't let her skip the Osgoode Vibrations' songs at the program that night, even though she was exhausted. She at least had gotten _some _sleep, though, between turning in her paper around noon and her parents' arrival around four.

That paper really sucked. She had eventually finished reading the play, though she still couldn't say she totally got all of it. There was only one thing in it that she found the slightest bit funny: the phrase "a rotten carcass of a butt." But that was too juvenile to put in the paper, and anyway _butt_ in that case obviously didn't really mean butt. So she pretty much had to rely on Google searching just to identify the passages and scenes that were supposedly comedic. She was careful not to plagiarize, because she knew that would piss Hellman off more than anything and probably make her flunk the whole class. But it unfortunately meant that she had nothing to go on but her own ability to bullshit when it came to explaining why the shit was funny (which it wasn't) and what Shakespeare was trying to accomplish.

Anyway, it wasn't Tina's best glee performance, but she was only singing backup anyway. Blaine had a solo and was awesome as always. He had another solo in the GMC's performance, and he was awesome at that one too.

After the program, Tina's parents wanted to meet Scott since they had heard so much about him. No, not really. They had heard _of _him though. Tina had to take her mother aside first. "Okay, don't use the words _boyfriend _or _girlfriend_ or _going out_ or anything like that. Just, like, 'Hi, nice to meet you' would be fine. And please don't let Charlie say anything."

She led them over to where Scott was standing around with some of the other GMC guys. "Hey, Scott," she said, getting his attention. "I'd like you to meet my mom and dad, June Cohen and Stan Chang. And my brother Charlie." They all said hi, and Scott shook hands with her parents but not with Charlie.

Charlie said, "So, Scott, are you—"

Her mother interrupted and said, "Tina, we'd really like to see your painting. Scott, it was very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. Tina, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay." Tina led her family away and whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," her mother said. "He seems nice."

Tina waited until they were out of the auditorium before breaking it to her mom that they couldn't actually go see her painting, but they weren't really missing anything because it wasn't very good.

Her family was staying in a hotel in Lima; she was glad they weren't taking her home that night like some kids' parents were, because she hadn't even started to pack yet. They didn't actually go to their hotel until close to ten, which meant Tina only had about an hour to hang out with Scott. Because, yes, the normal curfew was still in effect for the kids who were still there.

"Your family seems nice," he told her as they started their customary walk.

"They're all right," she said. "It's too bad yours didn't come."

"Trust me, it's fine."

They talked a little bit about how finals had gone for both of them (Tina downplaying her stress levels), how much packing they had left to do (Tina confessing to having all of it left to do), and what they planned to do when they got home. Not what their plans were for the whole summer—they'd already talked about that—but, like, as soon as they got home. Scott was going to order a decent pizza. Tina was going to play with Sookie. And cuddle her and talk baby-talk to her, but she didn't mention those things.

The hour went by pretty fast. They probably weren't going to see each other in the morning. Tina wondered if they were supposed to hug good-bye or something. She hesitated at Mu, in case Scott was going to. But he didn't, and they just wished each other a nice summer and promised to text and e-mail, and they waved and each went into their own dorm.

A lot of couples were having much more emotional and physical good-byes, and it was kind of annoying. And embarrassing for the couples involved, if they had had the sense to be embarrassed. Which, mostly, they didn't.

Tina was glad she didn't have to see Blaine and Sam's good-byes. There would be crying; she knew that. And hugging and kissing...probably kissing in places she didn't want to think about. Probably even other stuff...no, she _really _didn't want to think about that. They would earnestly declare their love for each other and express their anguish at having to spend the summer apart. Then they'd sleep all wrapped up in each other's arms and wake up spooning and then go through everything again. It would be nauseating. Thank God they could do it all in private at least.


	31. Independence

**July 4, 2011**

The Cohen-Changs were doing the fourth of July in Cleveland with Grandpa Chang, like they did every year. Their dad had grown up there, and he always took them on a picnic at the same park he had done the fourth at every summer when he was a kid.

Tina's grandfather sort of flipped out about her hair. The color was faded, but she still had two shades of blonde—because the second bleaching didn't exactly match the first one—and one shade of orange, in addition to her natural black. It wasn't that he was mad about it or even that he didn't like it. He just acted like it blew his mind. "What happened to your hair!?" he asked when he saw her.

"I colored it. I had to bleach it first."

"Well I'll be damned." He took some of her hair in his hand and looked at it up close. "Did you see this, Stanley?"

"Yeah, I noticed it, dad."

"I'll be damned," he said again. "I guess this is the style these days, huh?"

"I guess so," her dad agreed.

He commented on it several more times throughout the picnic.

After they finished lunch, everyone was just kind of sitting around the picnic table. Tina and Charlie decided to walk down to the beach. "Hey, Stan," Charlie said, "give us some money for ice cream."

Their dad just scowled at him.

"Please, dad?" Tina asked. He took his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her ten bucks.

"Suck up," Charlie said when they were out of earshot.

"It's called basic politeness," she said. "And anyway, when did you start calling him Stan?"

"I dunno. In the last year I guess. Sometimes I slip in an extra A and call him Satan."

Tina laughed and said, "I bet that goes over well."

Charlie shrugged. "They really don't have any power over me, him and June."

"They can refuse to give you money for ice cream."

Charlie put his hands on his cheeks in mock terror. "Oh no, whatever will I do without ice cream money? Besides, I got you to get me ice cream money."

"I have always looked out for you," Tina agreed. It hadn't really been true over the last few years, but it used to be when they were little. Charlie didn't even learn to talk until Tina started kindergarten—he never _needed_ to talk when Tina was home during the day because she always knew what he wanted and got it for him.

"Besides, it's not like they're gonna let me starve to death. Like you know what they did to me for flunking math?"

"I didn't think they did anything."

"Exactly." They started down the stone steps to the beach. "There's nothing they _could_ do."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that. How did you manage to flunk seventh grade math?" Charlie had never been called a mathematical genius like people sometimes said about Tina—and she knew a couple teachers had actually compared him unfavorably to her to his face, which was about the most dickish thing a teacher could do—but he wasn't stupid.

"Skipping classes and not doing the homework. I could have gotten away with one or the other. But both? Not so much."

Tina was actually kind of impressed. Jealous, even. She never would have had the guts to skip classes when she was in seventh grade. She had never skipped a single class ever until this year at OHIO—and even then, it was more or less accidental, when she overslept. Really when she was twelve it hadn't even occurred to her yet to not follow the rules. Or at least the ones she knew she'd get caught if she broke.

And she envied Charlie's ability to not give a fuck. Second semester grades had come out last week and she got two Cs (C-plusses, but still) and she was still pretty freaked out. Not surprised, but knowing they were coming hadn't made them any easier to take. In contrast, here was Charlie: totally nonchalant about an F that he could have easily avoided.

Not that Tina couldn't have avoided her Cs if she'd worked harder and not procrastinated as much. But the thing was, those classes—English and art—were actually _hard_. She could have gotten Bs with some improved study habits. But she wasn't actually sure if she could have gotten As. And that was the worst thing.

She was supposed to be smart. But if you were smart, school wasn't hard. So apparently she wasn't that smart after all. So then what the fuck did she have going for her? Not a fucking thing.

Charlie didn't have these hang-ups. It must be nice.

They made it down to the beach. They weren't actually hungry for ice cream yet, so they just sat on the sand and looked out at the lake.

"Where do you even go when you skip class?" Tina asked. Charlie went to the same junior high she had gone to; she knew there was nowhere kids could hang out during the day without being noticed.

"My comrade Matt only lives like a block away from the school. We usually go to his basement and smoke some weed."

"Seriously? Like, where do you get it?"

"Most of our posse is in high school."

"That is _so cool_." Tina couldn't help but wish she had known this before so she wouldn't have had to have that awkward conversation with Nathan. She would have to find out if Scott wanted to try again in the fall.

"Hey, check it out," Charlie said, pointing to a little boy eating a blue raspberry popsicle. He had it all over his hands and face. "That kid totally blue himself."

Tina added, "There had to be a better way to say that," and they both laughed.

"It's weird," Charlie said. "It's like we actually get along now."

"Shit. You're right," Tina said. She realized they hadn't had a single physical fight all summer—not since _last _summer, in fact. And not very many verbal ones. And they'd been hanging out watching _Arrested Development_ on Netflix together, and now they were having an enjoyable conversation. "What the fuck happened?"

"You moved away."

"I guess all it took was us not having to live in the same house," Tina agreed.

"Thank God you're going to that camp in a couple weeks."

XOXOXO

Sam's mom pulled the pickup into the parking lot of the restaurant where Sam was working for the summer. It was two in the afternoon and the lot was packed. Sam was glad to be done with his shift; it had been super busy all day. He opened the passenger door. "Mom, you don't mind giving Miranda a ride home, do you?"

Miranda worked at the restaurant with him. They had gone to the same school freshman year but never really got to know each other until this summer. She always rode her bike everywhere, and she hadn't even taken drivers' ed because she didn't want to drive ever because it was so bad for the environment. Sam and his parents sometimes offered her a ride home after work, but she hardly ever accepted.

Today she did, though, because it was really hot and she was tired and she had a party to go to. She had invited Sam to the party, in fact, but all his aunts and uncles and cousins were at his house for a barbecue so he couldn't.

Miranda put her bike in the back of the truck and got in the front next to Sam, who was squished into the middle.

"Busy day?" Sam's mother asked as they took off.

"Crazy," Miranda said. "But Sam got this group of guys at one of his tables that were super cute." She nudged Sam as she said this, but he just looked straight ahead.

At the beginning of the summer Miranda had seemed like she was kind of flirting with him. That was maybe not the only reason he had told her that he had a boyfriend, but it was probably why he told her after only a few days. She took the news well. It was nice being able to talk about Blaine with someone, and for the most part he liked Miranda.

But it was a little annoying how much she had taken to having a "gay best friend" (which she had actually referred to him as) and wanted to point out every single guy she thought was cute. He had told her that he wasn't interested in any guys except Blaine, but she didn't get it. And he'd also told her that his parents didn't know, and she kept telling him how he really needed to come out to them, even though he'd told her about the roommate situation. He kind of wondered now if she was actually trying to force him into revealing something to his mother, who luckily did not seem to have noticed the nudge.

"Is everyone at the house already?" he asked his mom, more to change the subject than anything. He knew they would be by now.

"Yep. They'll be glad to see you. Annabel especially. She's been asking where her Prince Sammy is."

"Annabel's my three-year-old cousin," he explained to Miranda. Just in case she might think... Well, who knew what she might think?

When they got home after dropping Miranda off, Annabel was the first one to run up to him, yelling, "Prince Sammy is here!"

She was in a wet swimsuit from playing in the sprinkler, but Sam picked her up and put her on his shoulders. "How's my favorite princess?" he asked her. Stacey wasn't into princess stuff anymore, and the only other girl cousin was still a baby, so he thought the "favorite" thing was probably safe.

"Play with me!" she answered.

"I will. I just need to take a shower first cause I smell like french fries."

Annabel sniffed his head. "Your hair smells yummy." She put a lock of it in her mouth.

"Okay." He took her off his shoulders before she could start chewing or pulling. Pointing her back toward the sprinkler, he said, "I'll be back out in a few minutes."

He was just getting out of the shower when he heard Blaine's ringtone. Hoping to God none of his aunts or uncles were wandering around inside the house, he threw a towel around his waist and ran to his bedroom to answer it. He barely had a chance to say hello before someone was knocking on his bedroom door.

He opened it and looked down at his little brother. "What?" he asked impatiently, not moving the phone away from his ear.

"Come on! We wanna play hide and seek."

"I'm on the phone."

"You're the best seeker."

"I said I'm on the phone, Stevie. Will you leave me alone for five minutes?"

Stevie slunk off like he'd been slapped. "Stevie, wait..." Sam called, but he was outside already. "Oh fuck," he said into the phone as he sat down on his bed. "I just yelled at my little brother just for wanting me to play with him."

"Do you need to go?" Blaine asked.

"No, the kids can entertain themselves for a while longer. It's been forever since I talked to you." They hadn't spoken since the end of June, and they hadn't seen each other since OHIO. "I fucking miss you."

"I fucking miss you too. Are you still gonna come to Kent next week?"

"If I don't flunk my driving test. And if I do flunk then I'll...I dunno, ride my bike over. Hitchhike. Walk. I'd ride my bike or hitchhike or walk over there right now if you weren't in California. I hope you're having fun though."

"It's nice," Blaine said. He and his parents were out visiting Cooper. They had a hotel on the beach—it was beautiful. The fireworks over the ocean were supposed to be amazing. That's not what he'd been looking forward to all day, though. He'd been looking forward to his parents going to lunch without him so he could have the room to himself to call Sam. He'd had to tell them he had a headache for it to happen. "I'd rather be with you though."

"I'd rather be with you too. Tell me about California."

Blaine checked the door to make sure the deadbolt was locked. "Can I tell you about California later?" He stretched out on the bed and said, "I have the room to myself for a while, and I was hoping we could talk about something else?"

"Yeah? Like something I should lock my bedroom door for?"

"I didn't think your door had a lock."

"There's a dresser I can push in front of it."

"Yeah. Do that."

Sam did, and he also closed the window and the curtains. He lay on his bed and closed his eyes. "So, uh...I've been practicing for when we see each other."

"Practicing?"

"Yeah, like...So I'll be ready to let you..."

"Oh my God. Were you serious about that?" Sam had mentioned that one time that he would let Blaine fuck him, but then he hadn't mentioned it again...and Blaine hadn't wanted to be the one to bring it up. He had failed so miserably at bottoming, he didn't want to pressure Sam or anything.

"Don't you want to?"

"Are you kidding? I want to so bad. Fuck, I wish you could see what the thought of it is doing to me."

"I wish I could see too. Are you hard for me?"

"So hard for you. Are you...?"

"I am. It's a good thing I'm only wearing a towel. Pants would be too constricting."

"Maybe you should take the towel off even."

"Yeah, I think I should." Sam dropped it next to him on the bed. "You get naked too."

Blaine stood and removed his clothes, then got under the sheets. "So...tell me about this practicing you've been doing."

"So, um...I bought some lube online? So my bank knows I'm all pervy now, but at least Mrs. Snyder who owns the pharmacy and is friends with my parents doesn't. And, uh...should I get it now?"

"Yeah, get it. And then do what you've been doing with it while you tell me about it."

Sam went to the dresser he'd pushed against the door and pulled the little bottle out from under all the socks he'd piled on top of it. "I think this kind I got is better than what you got. I mean, no offense or anything. It feels slipperier or something. Maybe that's why it hurt when I tried to... Anyway, I'll bring it when I come visit."

"Yeah. Good."

"Okay, so I'm kneeling on the bed now. And I'm squirting some of the lube on my fingers and...no, I don't think this is gonna work."

"What?"

"Well, last time I did this kneeling I reached between my legs with one hand and steadied myself by holding onto the headboard with the other. But I wasn't holding the phone then. It's okay though. I'll just lay on my back..."

There was another knock on the door, a stronger one this time. "Sam!"

"Yeah, dad?" Sam asked, trying to sound normal.

"You want a burger?"

"Uh, no thanks."

"You coming out soon?"

"I'm on the phone with Blaine."

"Well call him back later. Everyone wants to see you."

"Okay. I'll be out in a couple minutes." He waited until he heard his dad walk away before he spoke into the phone again. "Blaine, I—"

"I know," Blaine said, adding a little whine at the end. "I really wanted to hear your voice while I came."

Sam glanced at the dresser against his door. It wouldn't keep his dad out if he were determined, but his dad wouldn't force his way in. The only ones who would try to open the door without knocking were some of the kids, and it would keep them out. "Can you be fast?" he asked.

"Not a problem."

"Are you jerking yourself? Are you thrusting your cock into your fist?"

Blaine closed his eyes and did just that. "Uh huh."

"You're not," Sam said. He put some lube on his palm and started jerking himself too. "You're thrusting into my ass. You feel how hot and tight it is?"

"Jesus, Sam. How are we? Are you on your back, or—"

"How do you want me? You want me bent over the desk?"

"Fuck."

"Exactly. I'm all bent over for you and you're fucking me, you're slamming your cock into my ass, you're nailing me hard, and I'm...oh fuck I'm gonna come already..."

"For real?"

"Yes for..._Fuck_!" Sam had to concentrate on not making any noise while he came. It didn't help that Blaine had started to come now too and didn't have to keep quiet. Blaine's low, throaty moans may have made it harder for Sam to keep his mouth shut, but it was totally worth it because they also prolonged and intensified his orgasm.

It was a minute or two after he finished before Sam could attempt to speak again. "Better now?"

"Much better. I still wish we could have done it in person though."

"Obviously." Sam wiped the come off his chest with his wet towel. "I'm all gross and hot and sweaty," he said. "I need another shower, but that would _really_ make my dad wonder what was going on."

"Sorry." Blaine had gotten a little sweaty too, but his hotel room was over-air-conditioned, so he was actually cold now. "I like you when you're hot and sweaty though."

"Well I guess I'll leave you with that mental image then, because I really do have to go. I love you."

"I love you too."

Sam forced himself off the bed. He pushed the dresser back into its regular spot and took his swim trunks out of it. If he couldn't take another shower, playing in the sprinkler with the kids was probably the next best thing.

Blaine still had a little time before his family would be back, so he did take a shower. And that mental image of Sam hot and sweaty and naked and bent in front of him and covered in come... He found himself in need of relief again, and he was so glad he had more privacy than poor Sam did right now. And he was even gladder that they would get to be together next week.


	32. Pepper and Friday

**July 12, 2011**

The first thing Sam did when Blaine opened his front door to let him in was push him against the wall. "I missed you _so much_," he said right before he smashed his mouth into Blaine's.

Blaine whimpered as their tongues tangled and their bodies pressed together urgently. But then he pulled away breathlessly and whispered, "My dad is home."

"What? It's ten in the morning. On a Tuesday."

"He's not teaching summer classes."

"Fuck." This probably should not have surprised Sam so much. He knew Blaine's dad was a professor, he knew professors didn't have to work summers. But it did surprise him, and it kind of pissed him off. "Why didn't you mention that he'd be around?"

"It didn't occur to me?" It really hadn't. His dad was always in the house a lot during the summer. Even during the school year he did a lot of his work from home. It hadn't occurred to him that Sam would be counting on them having the house to themselves during the day. They'd talked a lot about what they planned to do to each other, but they hadn't specified what time of day or night they'd be doing them. "I promise we'll have time to...you know. He'll probably go out. And if not, there's always tonight when he and my mom are asleep."

Sam whined and rested his forehead against Blaine's. "Can we at least make out in your room? With clothes on?"

Blaine looked around. His father seemed to be in the basement still; at any rate he wasn't visible. He nodded and ran to his bedroom, Sam right behind him.

They technically managed to keep their clothes on, though not necessarily zipped up. And articles that were supposed to rest on the hips may have been temporarily relocated to rest around the knees. When they emerged for lunch around noon, they were smiling broadly and their hair was just a little mussed.

"Let's drive somewhere," Blaine suggested after they'd eaten. Sam was the first person his age—well, technically older, but only by three months—who could drive. It was exciting! "Let's drive into Cleveland!"

"My mom would kill me if she found out," Sam said.

Blaine's dad happened to be walking past the kitchen at that moment. He popped in. "Hi Sam! When did you get here?"

"Around ten. We were watching a movie in Blaine's room." It was true that they had turned one on anyway.

"Well, welcome. I hope Blaine has shown you where everything is."

"Yep," Blaine said, although he really only shown him the bed.

"Good. Now what was it your mother would kill you if she found out about?"

"Um, nothing we're planning on doing, obviously. Blaine was just asking if I'd ever driven into Cleveland by myself, and I said no, because my mother would kill me. She specifically said that."

"Ah, she sounds like a very smart woman. I'd kill Blaine, too, if he rode into Cleveland in a car driven by someone who's had their license...how long?"

"Um, since Saturday."

"So three days."

"Well, right. But I did really well on the test, and I had lessons and lots of practice with my learner's permit..."

"I'm not implying you're a bad driver, Sam. Maybe not good enough to outmaneuver an enraged parent intent on infanticide..."

"Dad, we're not gonna go to Cleveland." Blaine had his back to his father so he could roll his eyes as he said this.

Blaine's dad smiled. "I'm glad to hear it." He grabbed a peach from a bowl on the counter and left.

When he was out of earshot, Blaine leaned closer to Sam and asked, "Did your mother specifically tell you not to drive into Akron?"

"No."

"I didn't hear my father say anything about Akron either."

So Sam drove them to Akron. Neither of them knew of anything in particular to do in Akron, so they mostly just drove around. But they did stop at a coffee shop and they acted like it was a real date and they held hands and everything. And they stopped at a record store and bought a used copy of _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_, which they listened to for most of the drive back to Blaine's.

At dinner, Blaine told his parents about the last track on the CD. "It's genius! It's like two different songs but they fit together perfectly, and there's a crazy-sounding orchestra, but good crazy, and the first line... Okay, it starts out, 'I read the news today, oh boy,' which, I mean, it sounds like kind of a stupid line, but the way it's sung is so... I don't even know. And the way it ends, it's so...so climactic, and it's like..." and Blaine tried to replicate the long piano note at the end. Sam found him seriously so cute when he got all excited like this. He had to look down at his chicken just to be sure Blaine's parents wouldn't notice him staring with a dopey, lovesick grin.

"Oh yeah," his dad said. "'A Day in the Life,' that's an incredible song. You know, _Sgt. Pepper's_ is the first album I ever bought."

"If you've been aware of this song for all these years—my entire life!—how is it you have never played it for me?" Blaine demanded.

His father shrugged. "It sounds even better on vinyl. You want me to look for it?"

"_Yes_."

He would have hovered over him while he looked for it right after dinner, but they had to go. There was a show at the Black Squirrel Club and they were picking up Tina to go to it together.

Tina came out of her house carrying a little fuzzy brown dog. She walked toward the driver's door and Sam got out of the car. "I know _you_ don't like dogs, Blaine..." she said, peering at him through the open window.

"It's not that I don't like them! I'm allergic."

"I love dogs!" Sam said, rubbing Sookie's ear. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?"

Sookie wagged her tail vigorously and licked Sam's hand until Tina turned her over to show Sam she was a good _girl_. She gave the dog a quick tummy rub and carried her back to the house. "I'm leaving now," she yelled as she put Sookie down inside. Sam got back in the driver's seat and Tina slid into the backseat.

"You should get a Labradoodle," Sam said.

"Nah, my mom won't let us get another dog. All three of the rest of us want one, but her vote counts the most, apparently."

"I was actually talking to Blaine. If you're allergic you should get a Labradoodle. They're supposed to be not as allergy-inducing."

"Or a Portuguese water dog," Tina added. "Like the Obamas."

"Thanks," Blaine said. He knew his parents would never buy a dog, and he didn't especially want them to anyway, but he wasn't about to say _that_.

Blaine held Sam's hand while they walked from the parking lot to the student union. So this was nice, Tina thought, being the obvious third wheel. Even though going to this show had been _her_ idea. Way back in June she'd seen that the Nubes were going to be there. She and Blaine had seen them last summer, and they were really good. This time was supposed to be just her and Blaine too, until Sam went and picked this particular Tuesday to visit.

And now they were even walking ahead of her. What the fuck! Okay, Sam was tall and he always walked fast. Blaine, of course, would walk however fast Sam did. Well Tina wasn't tall, and she wasn't going to jog just to keep up with people who didn't even want her around anyway. In fact, she intentionally slowed down. Because fuck those guys.

Not that they cared. They were all the way to the doors when they finally noticed that Tina was like twenty feet behind them. Actually _Sam_ was the one who noticed, even though Blaine was the one who was supposed to be...well, used to be her friend. Right now she wasn't so sure.

"Hurry up, Tina!" Sam yelled jovially. As if they were all good friends and nothing were wrong. Which nothing probably was as far as he was concerned.

"Fuck you," Tina muttered under her breath. She continued walking toward them at her own slow-ass pace.

She sort of understood it. They were boyfriends; they hadn't seen each other all summer. Blaine could see Tina any time. Not that he _had._ This was the first time he had gotten together with Tina this summer too. Neither of them could drive, but it wouldn't have been that hard.

They were a bit early, so they were able to get a table near the front. Tina realized she was acting pouty and childish, so she forced herself to start a conversation with Sam while Blaine was gone getting them all Cokes. "So how's your summer so far?"

"Pretty good," Sam said. "I've been working a lot at this restaurant. Between that and the driving lessons it's hardly even seemed like summer. But now that I have my license I can take my brother and sister to the pool on my days off. How about you?"

"I've been watching a lot of Netflix."

Sam waited, as if she were going to say more. When she didn't, he said, "You're going to that camp soon, right? In Montana?"

"Minnesota."

"I knew it was an M-state and it was north."

"Coulda been Maine or Michigan," Tina said, to which Sam agreed. "Oh! I meant to ask, how did you do in geometry?"

"I got a B!" Sam said, smiling hugely. "Thanks to you!"

"No, it was all you." Tina knew she wasn't a very good tutor. "Congratulations." She tried to sound happy, but she couldn't believe she had gotten two Cs and _Sam _had gotten a B in his worst subject. Not that she thought Sam wasn't as smart as she was... Well, if she ever had thought that, she was obviously very, very wrong. "Did Blaine get all As?"

"He got an A-minus in French," Sam said. "It's kind of annoying how easy all his classes are for him, isn't it?"

Yeah, it was extremely annoying. But she didn't answer, because Blaine was back.

The Nubes weren't as good as Tina remembered from last year. She couldn't remember why she'd been impressed with them in the first place. Maybe they were having an off night or something. Sam and Blaine didn't seem bothered by their mediocrity. They weren't paying any attention to the band anyway.

When the show was over, Sam said he was hungry. He didn't want to get something there at the Black Squirrel, he wanted to drive somewhere else. Tina thought he just wanted to show off the fact that he could drive.

"How about ice cream?" Blaine suggested. "We could go to Katie's—"

"No!" Tina said. There was no way she was going to let Blaine count _tonight_, which sucked, as the ice cream outing he owed her still. "How about Sergeant Friday's?"

"I'm not really in the mood for pizza," Blaine said.

"So we'll just get beer gobs."

"What the hell? That doesn't even sound good," Sam said.

"Oh my God, you've never had beer gobs? That's it. We're going to Friday's." Tina led them purposefully back to the car.

"Is someone gonna tell me what beer gobs are?" Sam asked.

Blaine groaned, but Tina ignored him. "Only the best food ever invented."

"They don't actually contain any beer," Blaine explained. "They're little wads of deep-fried pizza dough."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Tina said. "They're fucking delicious."

So they drove to Sergeant Friday's and got a large basket of beer gobs. Sam agreed they were fucking delicious, because duh. And even Blaine—yeah, he complained about them being unhealthy and greasy and whatever, but Tina noticed that that didn't stop him from eating as many as she and Sam did.

The basket was huge and they didn't finish it. Blaine asked Tina if she wanted to take the leftovers home, which just proved how little he understood Kent's finest cuisine. As delicious as beer gobs were hot, they were equally revolting cold. And there was no way to reheat them into anything edible.

Blaine paid the bill—Sam tried to chip in, but Blaine wouldn't let him. Tina would have chipped in if they'd been doing that, but if Blaine _wanted_ to pay, that was fine with her too. Then Sam drove her back to her house, and he actually waited in the driveway until she was inside.

It wasn't very late when Sam and Blaine got back to Blaine's house. Blaine's parents were still up, sitting in the living room. When the boys walked in they asked how the show was, how Tina was, like a million questions. Blaine tried to answer them briefly, but not so briefly that they'd suspect anything, like that he really just wanted to get Sam alone and naked.

"Well, we're gonna go play some Xbox in my room," he announced as soon as he thought he could.

"I found the album if you want to hear it first," his father said.

"What album?"

"_Sgt. Pepper_." Blaine looked at him blankly until he reminded him, "You were so excited about 'A Day in the Life' at dinner?"

"Oh. Oh, right. Well, no thanks. Right now we're really excited about...Halo."

"All right. But your mother and I are going to bed soon. Why don't you guys take it down to the basement so we won't have to hear it?"

Blaine and Sam looked at each other and tried to repress their smiles. "Okay! Well, good night!" They all but ran toward the basement door.

"Are you guys forgetting something?" his dad asked.

Blaine froze. He _had_ actually forgotten that the "supplies" Sam brought were still in his backpack, which was in his bedroom. But he didn't know how his dad could have guessed that or what he was supposed to say now...

"The Xbox?" his dad said.

"Oh! Right. Duh!" They went to his room to get the Xbox and a couple games and the other stuff they were going to need while his father just shook his head, amused.


	33. Halo and Other Fun Activities (Part I)

**July 12-13, 2011 **

They actually did play Halo for a little while, just in case one of Blaine's parents would come downstairs for some reason, like to tell them goodnight or something. And Halo actually _was_ fun. And, truth be told, they were a little nervous. Especially Sam.

Because, as much as he liked the idea of taking Blaine's cock up his ass—and as much as he liked talking about it and as much as he _loved_ how hot it got Blaine when he talked about it—it was only just now starting to seem like any kind of a reality. And, you know, it was kind of a big deal.

And it hadn't gone so well for Blaine, so he knew it wasn't going to be easy.

But just because he was nervous didn't meant he didn't want to do it. Like, he had figured out that Blaine hadn't really wanted to that one time—that he was only trying because he thought Sam wanted it. And Sam did want to fuck Blaine; he hoped some time Blaine would want that too. But Sam also really wanted to get fucked.

And being alone with Blaine, even though they were trying to wait until they were sure his parents were in bed—it was hard to keep his hands to himself. And his mouth. And so it wasn't _that_ long, nerves notwithstanding, he found himself horizontal on the couch on top of Blaine, kissing and sucking his neck, the Xbox controllers completely abandoned.

"Stop!" Blaine said—not that he really wanted him to. What Sam was doing to his neck was driving him crazy. But... "I don't know how I'd explain a hickey to my parents." He stood up. "I'm gonna see if they're asleep yet."

While Blaine was upstairs, Sam turned off the Xbox and the TV, but then turned them right back on just in case they'd need them for cover. Not that it would matter much if one of Blaine's parents walked in on them and found Blaine with his cock up Sam's ass. So he turned them off once more. He got the lube out of his backpack and set it on the arm of the couch.

Blaine returned to the basement smiling and holding something behind his back. "They're in bed!" he announced. "And I got you something!" He handed Sam a wrapped box.

"What...? But I didn't get you anything."

"Well, this is sort of for me too. Before you open it..." he said, and Sam stopped tearing the paper. "...let me just say, it's for tonight, for what we've been planning. But if you change your mind, it's totally fine. Okay?"

"Okay. Can I open it now?" Blaine nodded, and he tore the paper off. There was a plain box, inside of which was... "Oh! It's a..."

"It's a butt plug," Blaine said, the word sounding really weird to him.

"And...that's just what it sounds like and looks like, I take it?"

"So..." Blaine sat on the couch, turned toward Sam. "I was looking around online for, like, advice for how to do it the first time. And stretching...everything I read said that stretching is the key. And that's what the...the butt plug does. You leave it in for a while, and then when it's time for..."

"You to fuck me?" Sam said.

Blaine felt his dick twitch a little. "I love when you say that. It does things to me."

"I know." Sam held the plug up and examined it from different angles. "It's not as big as you," he observed.

"Yeah, funny story. I actually didn't pick it out."

"You didn't, like, inherit it or something did you?"

"Yeah. I'm totally giving you my dead grandpa's butt plug." Blaine dropped his face into his hands. "Oh my God, I cannot believe I just said that." He glanced up at the ceiling. "Sorry, grandpa."

Sam, meanwhile, was laughing so hard that tears were forming in his eyes. "Dude, that was so wrong," he said. He waited until he got his laughing under control and said, "Tell me the real story. Though I doubt it's as funny as the dead grandpa one."

"Well, there's this store smack dab in the middle of downtown Kent. Except I didn't even know it was a store until this summer when I saw some people come out for the first time. The whole time I've lived here I thought it was vacant, because there's paper covering all the windows, and it doesn't even have a name above it or anything. But nope, it turns out it's the local porn shop, and it doesn't need to display its name or anything because it's been here forever and _everyone_ knows about it. And the paper, I guess, was to humor some prudish 'concerned citizens' or something way back when.

"So I thought, with internet porn and everything, if there's a porn shop that's still in business it must sell other stuff too. Like probably sex toys. So I casually strolled past it every day for a week before I finally worked up the nerve to go in. And it wasn't even open, because apparently people in Kent don't shop for porn during the day, only at night. So I went back at night—I told my parents I was going to see a movie—and I strolled past a couple times before I didn't feel like anyone was watching me, and I went in.

"And there's this woman working there, standing at the counter, and she's around my mom's age. And she just looks like a normal person, right? She's not, like, sexy or anything, and she's wearing jeans and a Golden Flashes t-shirt. And as soon as I walk in she's like, 'Hi, how are you doing?' And I'm like, 'Mumble mumble,' ducking my head and trying to be not so noticeable. And I sort of slink over to the back wall where I see the, you know, the types of thing I was looking for.

"And so then she doesn't even leave the counter, so she has to kind of yell, and she's like, 'I'm sorry, but this store is for adults only. I'm gonna have to see some ID or ask you to leave.' And so I try to act all casual like I have no idea she's talking to me and I'm leaving because I just happen to be done browsing and I wasn't really going to buy anything anyway. But of course everyone in the store is staring at me anyway, because there's no one else there that looks like they could possibly be under eighteen.

"So I get outside and I stand there on the sidewalk for a minute. I really just want to run, but I also somehow think it'll look better if I keep acting casual, so I just walk down the street. But then these two women who were inside, like as customers, not as employees, followed me out and one of them was like, 'That really sucks that she kicked you out.' And I shrugged like I didn't know what they were talking about. And the other one goes, 'Like it's not hard enough being an LGBT kid in this town.' And I'm about to say something about that, like not deny it but ask what makes her think so, but then I notice the two of them are holding hands so I just nodded.

"And she said, 'What were you gonna buy?' I'm like, 'Oh, I was just looking anyway.' And she said, 'Pshaw.' She actually said, '_Pshaw_.' And she goes, 'We'll buy it for you if you tell us what you need.' And these women, they're super nice and everything, but they're like thirty and there's no way I can say the words _butt plug_ in front of them. I just stood there with my mouth open like an idiot. And so the other one starts guessing stuff. She's like, 'DVDs? A dildo? A butt plug?' And I guess I must have nodded or something because they're like, 'Wait here.' And a few minutes later they came out and they gave me _that_." Blaine paused for a breath. "They didn't even let me give them any money for it."

"So...you're not really the one I should be thanking for this then." Sam, seeing his smart-ass comment had left Blaine actually speechless, hurried to add, "I'm joking. I can't believe what you went through to get this for me. It was epic. You're the best boyfriend ever." He leaned forward and kissed Blaine. "I think we should try it out right away."

"You're ready?"

"Not _ready_ ready. But you can help with that, right?"

Blaine nodded happily. "Take your pants off."

"Hey! Aren't you supposed to seduce me or something?"

"What!?"

"I'm a blushing virgin, baby. I'm about to let you pop my man-cherry. You can't just tell me, 'Take your pants off.'"

"_Man-cherry_, Sam? Really?"

Sam moved over to Blaine's side of the couch and knelt over his lap. He kissed his neck—he didn't suck because of hickeys—and then he sat back on Blaine's thighs. "Just because I say stupid stuff like _man-cherry_, and just because I also say graphic stuff like 'I want you to ram your cock inside my ass and pound me,' that doesn't mean..." He looked at Blaine's chest. 'I'm kinda scared.'"

"Sam..." Blaine slid his hands under Sam's shirt and up and down his back. "We don't have to if you're not ready. I'm totally happy with the stuff we've already been doing."

"It's not that I don't want to or even that I'm not ready. It's just...I guess I just don't want to give you a false impression of _how_ ready I am. I'm, like, ready but scared. Scared but ready. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. Totally. And you know any time you wanna stop or slow down—"

"I know. Slow sounds good, actually."

"How about if I take your shirt off?"

"If I can take yours off too."

They removed each others' t-shirts and lightly touched each others' chests. Blaine gently moved Sam off his lap and straddled him instead. "Can I kiss you?"

"Of course. Why are you even—"

"No, I mean _I_ wanna kiss _you_ while you just sit there and enjoy it. Is that okay?"

"Oh. Okay." Sam closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. Blaine's mouth and hands were all over him from the waist up—his face, his jaw, his neck, his chest, his stomach. Sam wasn't sure if it was because he wasn't doing anything except really feeling it, but it was incredible. Like at one point Blaine spent a good minute kissing and licking and...and _blowing on,_ for God's sake, the inside of his elbow and it got him insanely turned on.

This time he asked if Blaine would take his pants off. Because, Christ, if Blaine could do that to him by touching his _elbow_... Blaine pulled Sam's pants off, taking just a moment to admire how good he looked in his snug, heather gray boxer briefs before pulling those off too, and knelt on the floor between his legs. He traced his fingers over his boyfriend's thighs and looked up at him. "You are so gorgeous, Sammy."

Sam put a hand in Blaine's hair and whispered, "I love you."

Blaine ran his tongue along the crease between Sam's inner thigh and his crotch, nose brushing briefly across his balls. He licked and kissed a line down the inside of the thigh to the back of one knee. "I can make that easier for you to reach," Sam said, stretching out on his stomach on the couch. The fabric was a little rough on all his exposed and, in some areas, sensitive skin, but that was hardly uppermost in his mind.

"Nice," Blaine said. "I can totally give you a hickey here now." He started to suck.

"Yeah, you _could_ do stuff to my knee. Or...there's something else you can reach now."

Of course—duh! Blaine had total access to Sam's ass now. He rubbed it and caressed it and squeezed it and kneaded it. He pulled Sam's cheeks apart, just to see, and... Jesus! "Where's the..." He looked around for the lube and grabbed it off the arm of the couch. He held the bottle up and examined it. "Wow. You've definitely been using this without me."

"Well, I told you I'd been practicing."

"I remember. I also remember you were going to describe that to me and you never did."

"Yeah, well..."

"Maybe now you could show me?"

"Oh. I think it'd probably look more weird than sexy..."

"I'll be the judge of that," Blaine said.

Sam chuckled. "Okay. You asked for it." He got up on his spread knees, facing the back of the couch.

"Oh my God. I wish you could see how hot you look." Blaine got on his knees behind him and pressed up against his back. "Fuck." He kissed the back of his neck. Sam placed his hand in front of Blaine's mouth. "What? You want me to shut up?"

"No. I want you to suck my fingers." He moaned when Blaine did as he asked.

"What? That feels good?"

"Give me yours."

Blaine held his hand in front of his mouth. Sam teasingly licked the pad of his index finger. He closed his mouth around just the tip and continued to just lick for a minute before he started to suck. And then he sucked in the middle finger and slowly worked his way down to the base of both. "Oh fuck," Blaine said. "That's _awesome_. What inspired you to practice that?"

Sam put his fingers in front of Blaine's mouth again, and Blaine tried his best to replicate what Sam had just done to him. "I like to start with some spit before I go for the lube," Sam explained. "And when I'm sucking my own fingers I like to pretend it's your cock."

"I _thought_ you had some awesome new techniques this morning."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you—_God_—if you noticed." Sam closed his eyes as Blaine extended his tongue into the sensitive spot between two fingers. "Get lots of spit on them." When they were wet enough he removed them from Blaine's mouth. Blaine stood up and took a step back so he could have a better view.

Sam circled the outside of his hole with one finger for a minute before he pushed a finger in. He gasped as he breached himself, and Blaine found himself gasping too. Blaine absent-mindedly reached down to touch his own cock and was annoyed to realize he still had his pants on. He quickly stripped down to his orange-and-blue striped briefs, which he let his hand wander inside.

Meanwhile, Sam was clearly enjoying having his own finger in his ass. And, fuck, his ass was gorgeous. Blaine knelt in front of it and placed his hands on Sam's hips. He kissed the small of his back. He dragged his teeth and tongue down one ass cheek. Sam's finger was in pretty far now, and he was making tiny moans with each movement.

Blaine spread Sam's cheeks. Jesus Christ. He traced around the entrance with one finger, while Sam's moved in and out. "Can I...?" he asked.

"Lube," Sam said.

Blaine grabbed the bottle and covered two fingers. Nudging Sam's hand out of the way, he applied some directly to Sam's ass as well. His first finger slid in pretty easily. Sam tightened around it momentarily. He made a noise that _sounded _like a pleasure moan, but just to make sure... "You okay, Sammy?"

"Mmm hmm. That's awesome." Sam wiggled around on Blaine's finger. "Can you put another one in?" After an extra quick squirt of lube, Blaine started to slowly add his middle finger. Sam tensed again, but once he relaxed it seemed to be going well...until Sam cried out, "Ow! Fuck!"

Blaine quickly withdrew his fingers, saying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Sammy, are you okay?"

"Yeah." Sam put his hand to his forehead. "It wasn't you. It felt really...intense, I guess...and I guess I leaned forward too hard...anyway I hit my head on the wall."

"Sorry! Let's just move this away from the wall..." Before Sam could move or even answer, Blaine had wedged himself between the wall and the couch and was pushing Sam's side of the couch toward the center of the room.

"Whoa!" Sam had to hold on to avoid being tilted over. "I could've helped with that, you know." The couch was heavy, especially with Sam still on it, and the floor was carpeted; there was no way that could have been easy.

It hadn't occurred to Blaine to ask Sam to help. And if he had thought of it he still wouldn't have asked him, because he looked so perfect kneeling against the back of the couch like that—the last thing Blaine wanted was for him to move. Besides, Blaine was way too focused on more important things than the difficulty of moving the couch to have really even noticed it.

"Are you ready for the..." Blaine couldn't quite bring himself to say _butt plug _again; it was such a ridiculous-sounding name for something. He just hoped Sam would know what he meant.


	34. Halo and Other Fun Activities (Part II)

**July 12-13, 2011 (continued)**

"Yeah. Are you gonna...do the honors for me?"

Blaine picked up the...thing...and coated it in lube. It was so slippery that it slid out of his fingers once, but he managed to catch it before it hit the ground. He knelt behind Sam on the couch and took another look. _Fuck_, his boyfriend looked hot. "I think you need to..." He guided Sam's legs a little farther apart and then held the plug so its tip was just touching his hole. "Ready?" He meant to say that in a normal tone but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

Sam stuck his ass out toward Blaine. "Uh huh." He was ready. So ready he kind of wanted to just skip the whole butt plug thing and just have Blaine in him already. _Kind of_. But he was also still _kind of _nervous, and anyway, Blaine had gone to all that trouble to buy this thing. It was a little weird and kinky, which—"Fuck!"

Blaine stopped pushing. He hadn't pushed it in very much, and he had been trying not to do it too fast. "Are you okay? Did that hurt?"

"Not exactly. It just...it feels so _strange_." Having a finger up his ass was one thing. This plastic thing, though, was just...different and odd. He shifted a tiny bit, and then it felt different and odd still, and also decidedly good. "Keep going."

Blaine slid it in slowly, thank God. The sensation was so new and intense—Sam needed the time to adjust; he couldn't have taken it all at once. And then it was just in, all the way in, Blaine didn't have to hold it in place or anything. Sam realized he had moved a bit: his forehead was resting on the back of the couch and his ass was sticking way the hell out. He probably looked ridiculous.

_Ridiculous_ was not a word Blaine thought of to describe how Sam looked. More like _seductive as hell_. His cock ached so bad; he'd been mostly neglecting it—and Sam's too. He could fix that right now. He rubbed his own through his briefs and simultaneously reached around to grasp Sam's.

Sam wasn't expecting a hand on his cock, and the jolt it sent through him made him lurch forward. And that sudden movement...the way the plug shifted inside him... "Oh my God, oh my God!" He thrust instinctively against Blaine's hand, against the back of the couch... He was going to come, there was no way he was going to be able to hold off until Blaine was fucking him. He was able to think just clearly enough to know he didn't want to shoot all over the upholstery.

He turned to face Blaine—the movement of the toy in his ass sending more shocks through him—and pushed him onto his back. He pulled Blaine's underwear down to his knees and straddled him, rolling his hips so their cocks ground against each other. Blaine moaned and grabbed his ass. "Blaine, it's so...I'm gonna..."

"Kiss me while you come."

Sam leaned down and started to come before he made it to Blaine's mouth. He thrust desperately, muttering, "Oh fuck, Blaine, I'm sorry, I tried—" Blaine wanted to tell him to stop apologizing, but instead he just pulled him in for that kiss, or rather, for Sam to moan into his mouth. He grabbed Sam's ass firmly, and Sam bit his shoulder as he rode out the last waves of the most mind-blowing orgasm he'd ever had.

"You're amazing," Blaine said, gazing up at Sam as he came out of it.

"No, you know what's amazing? Having something up your ass when you come. This butt plug is the best. And you, of course, cause you bought it. It's so...you gotta try it, Blaine. It's like...when you come, it's not just in your cock. It's like...I just felt myself squeezing that thing so tight, it was incredible."

Blaine swallowed hard, thinking of being in Sam's ass, of Sam squeezing his cock while he came, while they both came. He had to get Sam hard again. Actually, that wouldn't be difficult, if past experience was any clue. What was going to be difficult—what already was difficult—was holding off his own orgasm until he was inside. Not that there was any reason he wouldn't be able to get hard a second time too. It just...it seemed like since Sam was willing to do this amazing thing for him, it was only fair that he should get to come more.

Sam got off him and gasped. "Oh! Jesus."

"What?"

"No, it's just the way this thing moves whenever I do. And I'm really sensitive right now."

"Should I take it out?"

"No!"

Sam picked his t-shirt up off the floor and used it to wipe the come off his chest. This gave Blaine an idea, something special he could do for Sam. When Sam tossed him the t-shirt, he didn't use it to clean himself up right away.

He'd never actually tasted Sam's come before, nor Sam his. They both loved giving and receiving blow jobs, but so far they'd both been a little squicked out at the thought of letting the other one come in his mouth. They hadn't really talked about it, but he thought Sam would probably like it if he did.

So, in part to see if he'd be able to, and it part to see how much of a turn-on it would be for Sam, he ran a finger through the pool of come on his chest. He brought it slowly to his mouth, watching Sam bite his lip and watch him with anticipation. He licked his finger and Sam whispered, "Oh fuck, Blaine." In fact, he was so tuned into Sam's reaction that he sort of failed to even notice how it tasted. So he did it again, Sam watching him just as intently and, he noticed, lightly touching his cock.

It didn't taste that gross. He was so going to do it. Not this time—obviously this time he wanted Sam to come while he was fucking him. But one thing he had learned from Sam was that talking about what you were going to do later could be pretty hot in itself.

He sat up and took Sam's hand, pulling him back onto the couch. He spread Sam's legs and knelt between them on the floor. "You know what the next thing is that I wanna try? After this?" He kissed Sam's inner thigh while Sam asked what. "Tomorrow, before you have to go..." He moved a little higher up the thigh and placed another open-mouthed kiss. "I'm gonna get on my knees..."

Sam looked down at him. "You look so hot down there."

"I'm going to take your cock in my mouth..." he said, stroking the rehardening organ, "...and suck on it till it's rock hard..."

"Mmm, I love it when you do that. Why, exactly, are you gonna wait till tomorrow, though?"

"No, that part I'm gonna do tonight also." He licked Sam's balls teasingly. "But _tomorrow_ I'm gonna suck so hard and so long that you're gonna see stars. You're gonna start fucking my throat, you won't even be able to help it..." He licked Sam's cock now, in part so he'd stop promising stuff he wasn't sure he'd be able to do. What had possessed him to say that, even, about his throat? Sam certainly seemed to like the idea—he was getting harder by the second. Though that could have been from Blaine's mouth on it now. "And it's gonna feel so good, you're gonna try really hard not to come just so I won't stop. But then you're gonna have to come, you won't be able to wait any longer, and you'll warn me, 'Blaine, I'm gonna come' so I can finish you off with my hand, but you know what I'm gonna do?"

"Mmm..." Blaine's mouth was on his cock again, which was awesome. But he also wanted to hear Blaine say what he thought he was about to say, so he asked, "What?"

"I'm just gonna keep sucking your dick and let you keep fucking my...mouth, until you shoot your load in it."

"God! Are you gonna swallow my load?"

"I'm totally gonna swallow your load, Sammy." Blaine really hoped Sam wasn't going to hold him to this if he had second thoughts. "I'm gonna swallow your load and beg you for more." He wrapped his hand around the base of Sam's cock and took as much of the rest of it in his mouth as he could without gagging.

Sam started to thrust—just a little bit—into Blaine's mouth. It was hard not to: Blaine was really, really good with his mouth...and apparently there were even better blowjobs to look forward to. "Jesus, Blaine, you're such a good cocksucker." Fuck, Sam couldn't believe he'd just said that. He really hoped Blaine wouldn't take it the wrong way and be offended. But since his only reaction to the comment was to suck harder, Sam guessed he wasn't. The harder Blaine sucked, the more Sam's hips moved, and the more his hips moved, the more the plug moved around in his ass, and... "Blaine...my ass..."

"Does it hurt?"

"No! I want you to...haven't we waited long enough?"

"Yeah, I think we have!" Blaine stood up eagerly. "How should we—ah!" Sam had scooted forward and now was licking his cock. Blaine cradled the back of his head and brought it in closer. Sam's mouth felt so good, but... "No! The last thing I wanna do it come now, when we're finally ready to ..."

"Ready for you to fuck my ass?"

"God, Sam. I think I could come just from hearing you say that."

"But don't. Because then you wouldn't get to fuck my ass."

"And I really do want to fuck your ass."

Sam dropped to the floor and got on his hands and knees. "Then take this butt plug out of my ass. So you can ram your cock up my ass instead." Blaine knelt behind him and removed the plug, making Sam gasp. His butt felt strangely and unpleasantly empty.

"Where should we..." Blaine started to ask. "I mean, you don't want me to do you here on the floor do you?"

"Yes. I want you to do me right here."

Blaine almost asked Sam if he was sure. He'd always thought doggy style was about the least romantic sex position, and kind of degrading for the bottom. But he couldn't deny that seeing Sam like that, on his hands and knees, ass just waiting to be filled with his cock...it was unbelievably hot. And really, who was he to question what Sam wanted?

He found the lube and reapplied some to Sam. His fingers slid in easily now, and Sam pushed back against them. He lubed up his cock and let it rest just outside Sam's hole, pressing against it ever so slightly. "Ready?"

"Fuck me, Blaine," Sam said. He quickly added, "But slowly!"

"Of course." He held onto Sam's hips and started, very slowly, to push in.

And then Sam crawled away from him, saying, "Wait, Blaine, I'm sorry. I changed my mind."

"What!?" Blaine regretted saying that immediately. He would respect Sam's decision, of course he would, it was just that he wanted this _so_ bad and they had been _so_ close. But he had to just not think about that. "I mean, no, that's fine. We can blow each other or—"

"No, I just changed my mind about being on the floor."

"_Thank God._"

Sam scrambled onto the couch, where he lay on his back. Blaine followed, crawling between his legs. The angle wasn't quite right until they put a pillow under Sam's butt. "Just remember to go real slow," Sam reminded him once more.

Blaine did go real slow, and yet it felt somehow sudden. One second Sam had a virgin asshole (because fingers and toys didn't really count), and the next second he had a cock inside his ass. Not much of it was in at first, of course, just the head, but still..._Sam had a cock inside his ass!_ And it didn't hurt at all, not yet anyway; it just made him want more of it, want all of it, inside him. Because that plug felt good, but nowhere near what Blaine felt like.

"God, Sam." Blaine was hardly in at all, but Sam felt so incredible, so tight and snug, yet so yielding. Like this was exactly where his cock belonged. And Sam's face while Blaine pushed in...he was so glad Sam had changed his mind about the position so he could watch his face. He looked vulnerable and trusting and lustful and dirty all at the same time. "You're so beautiful."

Sam laughed at the compliment. He realized his face was probably all scrunched up and contorted and he was probably a total wreck. But looking into Blaine's eyes he could tell that he was totally serious and, moreover, that Blaine had never looked more beautiful himself. "You too."

Blaine watched in awe and disbelief as his dick disappeared—slowly, he forced himself to go slowly—inside Sam. "I wish you could see this," he said. Sam couldn't see anything; he had his eyes closed, just concentrating on how it felt. It was so intense, so overwhelming...by the time Blaine was fully in he was almost completely oblivious to anything else. Almost, but he did hear Blaine ask if he was okay.

"Yeah. Just...just give me a minute before..." It was so much, it didn't hurt exactly, but he need to adjust, to sort of relax and get used to it, before he thought he could handle being really fucked.

Blaine waited. He waited, even though he felt like he was beyond just wanting to pound into Sam, but like he actually needed to, like it might actually kill him not to. He waited silently until Sam started to rock against his dick, and then he asked, "Can I?"

"Yeah. Not too hard, but...yeah."

Moving inside Sam, even slowly, even gently...it was too much. "Sam, I'm not gonna last long."

"Me neither," Sam said, grabbing Blaine's ass and pulling him in deeper. Then he took one of Blaine's hands and placed it on his cock. "Please," he said.

Blaine started to jerk Sam, and he started to thrust harder and faster. He didn't mean to, he sort of wasn't even aware that he was doing it, he was only aware that it felt amazing, better than anything. And Sam didn't object, his own movements keeping up with Blaine's. And before he knew it he was coming on Blaine's cock, tightening around it, squeezing it while Blaine's hand worked all the come out of him. And as soon as Blaine felt the first squeeze of Sam's orgasm, his own started, and he was jerking forward hard. Sam felt Blaine's dick swell inside him and nail him over and over, and then the infusion of hot, sticky liquid in his ass while the last of his own come spilled out onto his stomach. They finished at the same time, clinging to each other, gasping and panting together.

Sam started to laugh.

"What?" Blaine asked. He thought it had been good—really, really good—and he was mortified to think Sam had somehow found it laughable.

"That was amazing," Sam said.

"Then why are you laughing?"

"I don't know. I guess because it's like smiling, but more?"

Blaine smiled at that, and then—Sam's laughter was so infectious—he started laughing too.


	35. 12 Months Older Than This Time Last Year

**July 15, 2011**

It wasn't that busy at the restaurant, so Sam was standing around chatting a little with some family friends who had come in for breakfast. Mr. Taylor, who used to be the pharmacist until he started going senile, was asking about Stevie's ear infection.

"Oh, it's much better," Sam said, "thanks to those antibiotics you gave us." Stevie hadn't had an ear infection in about five years.

"Well, bring the little guy in some time. You know I keep balloons behind the counter for the kids. Not lollipops—I don't want to get on Dr. Arthur's bad side!" Dr. Arthur was the Evans' dentist before he died three or four years ago.

"Dad, you don't work at the pharmacy anymore," Mrs. Snyder told him.

Mr. Taylor looked confused. "I don't? Why did I quit?"

"You retired." She turned to Sam. "So Sam, it seems that working life agrees with you."

"Yeah, it's good. It's just for the summer."

"And then you go back to that art school, right?"

"Well, it's just a high school, but yeah." The bell rang, the one above the front door. Sam looked over at a youngish couple who looked like they were planning to spend the day at the park. "Have a seat anywhere you like," he told them. "I'll be with you in a minute."

"I got it," Miranda said. Sam thought she was in the kitchen, but apparently she'd been clearing a table nearby. He thanked her as she took menus to the new couple's table, but he was actually a little disappointed. He kind of wanted an excuse to get out of the conversation he was stuck in.

Mrs. Snyder went on to ask him a bunch of questions about school. What was his favorite class, who was his favorite teacher, et cetera, et cetera. When she asked Sam if he had a girlfriend, Miranda snorted loudly from a couple tables away. Everyone in the restaurant turned to look at her, except Sam. He tried to ignore her and just answer the question. "No, not right now." He waited for the next question, but none was forthcoming. He felt like he needed to say something else, so he added, "There's this girl I hang out with kind of a lot—I just saw her, in fact, she lives in Kent—but she has a boyfriend, so..."

"Ah," Mrs. Snyder said, nodding knowingly. "Well, don't give up hope."

"Is she pretty?" Mr. Taylor asked. "Is she blonde like you?"

"Uh, yeah, she's pretty. Not blonde, though."

"Is she white?"

"Um. No ..."

"Dad! That's so racist!"

"What? It's just a question."

"Sam, I'm sorry," Mrs. Snyder said. "I should really get him home. How much do we owe?" Sam gave her the check. She left some money on the table and walked her father out the door. The tip she left was huge.

"Sorry," Miranda told him next time they were in the kitchen together. "I know you wanna stay in the closet. It just struck me as funny."

"The idea of me having a girlfriend is funny?" He had told Miranda he wasn't completely gay.

"No. I mean, I guess it could happen."

Sam grabbed the ketchup bottle he had gone in for and took it out to the table that wanted it. Miranda obviously didn't think he could have a girlfriend, and he really wanted that not to bother him. He knew it shouldn't. He was totally happy with Blaine and he didn't even want a girlfriend.

Or at least ... to be honest, the idea that he might never have sex with a girl kind of bummed him out. But so did the idea of ever breaking up with Blaine. He mostly tried not to think about either possibility.

But that was a little difficult to avoid because ... see, hardly getting to see Blaine at all over the summer had made him sort of reliant on porn. (That and actually being able to get porn, which he couldn't at OHIO.) And he couldn't help but notice that porn with girls in it did a lot more for him than porn with just guys. In general, that is. He had found a couple gay videos that he really liked. But there were only about as many gay videos that he liked a lot as there were straight—or lesbian, Jesus!—videos that he _didn't_ like a lot. Which is to say, not many at all.

So ... he felt like there was probably an obvious conclusion he should be drawing from this evidence, but he had no idea what it was.

XOXOXO

Tina waited for Blaine outside on the front steps. She could have just watched from the window like she did when he came with Sam, but the house wasn't air conditioned and at least there was a breeze outside. And she did not want Blaine coming to the door when he got there, because if he did that he might get a look inside.

Blaine's family's house was way nicer than hers, but that wasn't especially what she was self-conscious about. That is, every once in a while she was, when he'd get surprised about some feature of her house, like the time he'd exclaimed, "You only have a one-car garage!?" (His family's was three-car.) But he didn't really seem to care about that stuff—he wasn't trying to be snobby or anything, he just probably hadn't had friends before with houses as old and crappy as hers.

But what was really embarrassing was what a filthy craphole it was. Supposedly it was her and Charlie's job to keep it clean in the summer since they were home all day, but that just did not happen. And between the dishes and leftover food that had been sitting around for days and Sookie's occasional accidents, it was kind of starting to smell. The heat wasn't helping. (That had been another surprise to Blaine, that not everyone had central air.)

Blaine's dad pulled into the driveway and Tina got in the backseat. There was some lunchtime outdoor concert on campus that he was taking them to—or rather, he was dropping them off and then going to his office to clean some stuff out. Tina had actually been kind of surprised when Blaine asked her if she wanted to go with him. He probably felt guilty for being kind of a dick to her when Sam was visiting.

As soon as she was in the car, Blaine's dad asked her about math camp. She told him she was leaving the day after tomorrow and was really excited about it! And then he went off on some weird tangent about how great it was that she was a girl and she was excited about math and what did she think it was that prevented more smart girls from pursuing math and science? As if she knew! If she were really serious about "pursuing" it she wouldn't be going to OHIO. Not to mention that she really couldn't agree with his implicit characterization of her as "smart." She tried to give brief, vague answers to his questions, but he just kept asking new ones!

Blaine knew that the way his father talked to kids his age sometimes intimidated them a little. He liked to ask real questions, and he actually listened to the answers. Sometimes he followed up their answers with what might come off sounding as challenging, but which he just considered the normal way of having a conversation. He wasn't even doing that with Tina, not really, and yet he could tell she was uncomfortable. It was weird: he hadn't seen her get thrown by him before.

This band that was playing today—Blaine had never heard of them and didn't even know what kind of music they played. It kind of didn't matter. He had suggested it mainly so he and Tina could hang out. They'd hardly seen each other all summer, and she would be gone for most of the rest of it. And if the band sucked, they didn't have to stay.

But they didn't suck at all; they were incredible! It wasn't even a band really. They were almost a cappella singers: they had a couple acoustic instruments, but they didn't use more than one or two at most for any one song. And they sang Irish folk music, which Blaine never would have expected to like. Yeah, the Pogues were awesome and they had folk influences, but these guys—well, two guys and two girls—they were pretty hardcore traditional. (At least they sounded authentic to Blaine.) They all had beautiful voices and they harmonized together really amazingly, but what was maybe even more impressive was this one song the two men sang together in perfect unison. _Perfect_ unison. They sang it unaccompanied, except that one of the guys had boots on and he was stomping on the stage floor in time to the music. Blaine couldn't tell whether it was supposed to be part of the song or whether the guy was just so into it he didn't even realize he was stomping, but either way it sounded amazing. That song was in English and he was so going to buy one of their CDs and learn it. But even the songs that were in Gaelic—which was about half of them—were super catchy.

Tina loved them as much as Blaine did. She watched and listened so transfixed that she barely moved for the whole hour. Tina could hardly ever learn a song after hearing it just once, but there was this one that she did have mostly down, and she and Blaine walked around campus until it was time to meet his dad singing the verses in random order: "Here I am amongst you and I'm here because I'm here / And I'm only twelve months older than I was this time last year" and "Oh, the more a man has the more a man wants, the same I don't think true / For I never met a man with one black eye that wished that he had two" and a few others. There were a bunch of too-ra-la's or whatever in between the verses; Blaine could sort of do them and that Tina just mumbled her way through. Anyway, it was tremendously fun.

When she got home, her plan was to go to her room, put in the CD she'd bought, point the fan directly at herself, and learn the too-ra-la parts. But she made the mistake of checking her e-mail first. There was a message from Dean Stone:

"Dear Tina,

"The roommate you were paired with for the 2011-2012 school year, Pauline Brennan, has requested a reassignment. Please contact my office by Monday, July 18, if you would like to request a specific roommate for the school year. (Please remember that only mutual requests can be honored.) Otherwise, fill out and return the attached roommate preference form by July 18 and a roommate will be assigned to you."

She reread the message about a dozen times. Why the fuck would Pauline request a reassignment? She opened up the last e-mail exchange she'd had with Pauline, just last week. It was just normal stuff. What they'd done for the fourth. Which electives they were going to take. They'd exchanged some favorite lines from _Clueless_. There was nothing—_nothing—_about Pauline not wanting to be her roommate anymore or any hints that she was mad at her or anything.

Tina called her up, sure it must be some bizarre mistake. But as soon as Pauline answered with an uneasy, "Uh ... hi, Tina," she knew it was true.

"Pauline ..." Tina didn't even know what to say. "What the ..."

There was a long silence before Pauline asked, "Are you calling about the roommate thing?"

"Yes! What ..."

"Well, see, it's nothing personal. It's just ... Ellen decided not to come back in the fall. So Brooke needed to find another roommate, so she asked me ..."

"And you couldn't even say anything to me?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I know we probably should have. We just ... we were afraid you'd be upset."

Damn fucking right Tina was upset. She was too upset to say a fucking word.

"Tina?" Pauline asked after a while.

"What?"

"We still want to be next door to you. We told Jennifer Stone that and she said it's no problem."

"I have to go." She hung up on Pauline.

What the fucking fuck? _We were afraid you'd be upset_? Fuck you! _We still want to be next door to you_? Fuck you, you fucking cunts. Tina hated the word _cunt_, but nothing else seemed to fit.

She sent an e-mail to Dean Stone, asking which junior girls weren't assigned to roommates they had requested. Pretty much everyone had paired up at the end of the year, but maybe there was someone whose planned roommate wasn't coming back and who wouldn't be horrible to room with. Tina wouldn't ask someone who _was_ paired up with someone they requested, because that was just rude and fucking heartless.

To Tina's surprise, she got a response almost right away. Too bad it didn't fucking help at all. All it said was that for "confidentiality reasons" she couldn't divulge that information. "They how the fuck am I supposed to request a new roommate?" Tina typed in reply. She deleted the words _the fuck_ before sending. Dean Stone's "answer" just referred her to the stupid fucking useless form and assured her that the school could match her with someone compatible.

"Shove your fucking form up your fucking ass," Tina said out loud, trying to picture Jennifer's reaction if she were to say it to her face, for real. It wasn't that satisfying; she couldn't even _imagine_ saying anything that would rattle Jennifer Stone.

She opened up the form, despite a strong desire to just fucking ignore it. But she figured she'd probably end up with an even worse roommate if she didn't fill it out. Neat or casual? Casual. Stay up late or wake up early? Stay up late. Additional comments/requests? "Please give me a freshman," she typed. Any juniors who hadn't found a friend to room with were probably total losers—a category that no one needed to point out to Tina now included her. She underlined, italicized, and bolded her second additional request: "_**Please put me as far away as possible from Pauline Brennan and Brooke Carlson.**_" Because there was no fucking way in hell she wanted anything to do with those cunts ever again.

Tina sent the form in and then put some My Chemical Romance on—she was no longer in the mood to listen to any too-ra-loo shit. She lay on the bed for a while, sweating because she never had turned the damn fan on, before she hopped up to start packing for camp. She could not _wait_ to get the fuck out of Ohio.


	36. Black Dick

**July 17, 2011**

Tina hadn't flown much before, and she'd never flown alone. She didn't see why people bitched about it so much. Yeah, the line to go through security was kind of long, but big deal. It wasn't like she'd never waited in a line before. And after that everything was fine. There were places to eat, places to shop if that was your thing. And the plane ride itself—okay, she could see why someone wouldn't like it if they were afraid of heights or something. But if you weren't, and you got a window seat (which she did) and you could watch the city and then the countryside get smaller and smaller until you couldn't see the ground at all anymore because you were above the clouds—that was actually pretty cool.

She didn't have quite the same enthusiasm for the connecting flight from Minneapolis to Bemidji, the closest town to Blackduck that had an airport. That plane was kind of tiny and cramped, and the ride was choppy enough that she couldn't read her magazine without getting motion sickness ... but hey, no biggie, she had her iPod, so she could just close her eyes and listen to that instead.

Unfortunately she had to hand over the iPod when she got to the camp, and her phone. They weren't allowed: if campers wanted to communicate with anyone from the outside world they had to write letters! On paper! It was going to be weird.

Despite the electronics ban, the camp wasn't that rustic. There were four big houses—with running water and electricity!—with four "cabins" apiece, each cabin containing four bunk beds and a sitting area on the lower level and four additional bunk beds on a loft level. There was one big bathroom in each house. The showers didn't have individual stalls, so that was going to be ... uh, Tina preferred not to think about that yet, actually.

After dinner in the dining hall, everyone went to cabin meetings that were supposed to be like mini-orientations. Tina's counselor was waiting for her girls decked out in Victorian-era garb. "Welcome, ladies," she told them, "to Cabin Lovelace. I know what you're thinking, and no, our namesake is not Linda Lovelace the porn star, but Ada Lovelace the nineteenth century mathematician. I was torn between greeting you in this Ada Lovelace costume and my Linda Lovelace one, but I'm saving the Linda outfit for the talent show at the end of camp." She winked at them—specifically at Tina, in fact.

"My name is Holly Holiday, which, yes, is almost as good a porn name as Linda Lovelace. But children always rebel, and so, much to my parents' chagrin, I am not a sex worker of any kind, but a student at the University of Minnesota. Anyone care to wager a guess what my major is?"

Three or four girls shouted out, "Math?"

"Yes! Cabin Lovelace has the smartest kids! So I know you'll all catch on really quickly to the 'rules' and routines of Camp Blackduck. First, yes, I know it sounds like kind of a racist name. Minnesota has a weird—how many of you are from Minnesota?" Five girls raised their hands. "So most of you won't know this. Okay, of you five, anyone from outside the Twin Cities metro?" Only one girl raised her hand.

"Where are you from?" Holly asked her.

"Brainerd."

"Perfect. Brainerd, for those of you who don't know, is the town made famous by the movie _Fargo_, which does not actually take place in Fargo, North Dakota. Okay, Brainerd girl—"

"Emily."

"Emily. What do you call the children's game where everyone sits in a circle, except one person who walks around tapping people on the head and saying, 'Duck, duck ..."

"You mean Duck Duck Gray Duck?" Emily said.

"You see?" Holly said to the rest of the group. "Minnesota has a long and sketchy history of segregating ducks by color. Emily, and you other Minnesotans, if you ever venture out into the wider world, you'll want to know that _everyone _else in every other part of the country calls that game Duck Duck Goose. And no, I'm not a native Minnesotan, as you might be able to guess based on how perplexed I am by its Nordic eccentricities."

After Holly had everyone introduce themselves and went over the daily routine and the "rules"—she actually used air quotes whenever she said "rules"—she had them go on a scavenger hunt in teams of two, each girl with her bunkmate. Tina's bunkmate was one of the Minnesota kids, a girl with curly hair like Blaine's (but long) ... and the same skin tone as Blaine ... seriously, Tina was going to have to ask him if he had cousins in Minnesota. Her name was Michaela.

"We got this," Michaela whispered to her. "This is my third summer at Black Dick. They always have the exact same scavenger hunt." Before Holly had even finished handing out the sheets, Michaela had told Tina which things she should get and where to find them.

They won, and when Holly announced it Michaela jumped up and yelled "Yeah!" The prize was a bag of Skittles for each of them. Michaela gave hers to Tina, saying she hated them, but this did not dampen her enthusiasm at all. She high-fived Tina, who apparently let her surprise at the reaction show, because Michaela told her, "Sorry, I'm just weirdly competitive. No one at my house will play Monopoly with me."

"Do they have Monopoly here?"

"Why yes they do," Michaela said.

"It's not mandatory, is it?"

"No." Michaela tapped her playfully on the shoulder. "Just don't warn anyone else okay? Then I'll never get anyone here to play with me either."

Tina ended up with the upper bunk, just like at OHIO, and for the same reason: that the other person had gotten there first. She made a mental note to make her parents leave very early in the morning when they took her back to school next month.

As everyone was getting into bed—they actually had a lights-out time at eleven—Tina discovered that Holly was on the top bunk next to hers. "Looks like we're next-door neighbors, Tina," Holly said to her as she climbed into bed. "I'm told I talk in my sleep sometimes. If I say anything funny write it down and tell me about it in the morning."

"Sure," Tina said, "no problem. I'm told I walk in my sleep. If I go anywhere interesting, get a video, would ya?"

"I'd love to, but electronic devices aren't allowed here."

"Yeah, but you're the counselor," Tina said. "I bet you got to keep yours."

"No, I didn't even have to bring any. I just use all of yours." Holly laughed. "Oh, God, don't tell anyone I said that. Someone will think I'm serious, and I know how some of you get about your phones and stuff."

"Kids today," Tina said, shaking her head.

**July 26, 2011**

Tina slumped back in her chair. It was the hottest day of the summer so far, and none of the camp buildings were air conditioned because come on! This was northern Minnesota. She was also a bit sleepy, just having eaten a grilled cheese and tomato soup and a big cookie at lunch. And so it wasn't that the class she was in—non-Euclidean geometry—wasn't good or interesting, but she was kind of thinking of leaving early.

She didn't leave early, but she didn't get as much out of the class as she would have if she'd been more comfortable and alert. There was a break before the next class, so she went down to the lake, which she hoped would be cooler at least. She checked her mail on the way, and there were letters from Scott and Sam.

The lake had a swimming beach, but despite the heat there were only a couple kids in the water. Apparently Tina wasn't the only one who didn't think she'd have any use for a swimsuit at math camp. There were some kids sitting on the piers dangling their feet in the water, which is exactly what Tina did. It helped a lot—the water was really cool, almost cold.

She opened the letter from Scott first.

"Dear Tina,

"In keeping with your technology-free backwoods camp experience, I'm not even typing and printing out this letter, I'm actually writing it by hand. Yes, you're welcome. It still seems weird to me that a math camp isn't more technology-positive, but if being cut off from the outside world makes it easier to immerse yourself in the wonderful world of mathematics, then I guess I understand it. Sort of. Anyway, I hope you can read my handwriting.

"The technology ban is probably good, though, right now. It would probably be weird to be at summer camp and see all that stuff on the news about that summer camp in Norway. What the fuck is wrong with people anyway?

"Hey, I can now save your life if you ever choke on something in my presence. I took a CPR class. My mom made me take it, but I guess I can't complain since it _could_ be useful. There's a life-sized doll called Resessi-Annie (sp.? why doesn't pen-and-paper have spell-check!?), and before you start CPR on her you're supposed to say, 'Annie, Annie, are you okay!?' I bet that's where Michael Jackson got that line in 'Smooth Criminal.'

"Did you ever see the movie _Pi_? I watched it a couple days ago, it's good. Well, you would probably like it.

"Well, I'm almost out of paper. Oh, I almost forgot to sympathize with your bunkbed problem. Hopefully Pauline will let you have the bottom bunk when school starts again. Or you could take them apart, that's what Cody and I did last year and will probably do again.

"Scott."

Yeah, she hadn't mentioned to him that Pauline bailed as her roommate. It was too embarrassing.

She wondered what had happened in Norway that was in the news, but there was no way to find out at the moment. So she forgot about it and put Scott's letter back in its envelope before opening the letter from Sam.

"Hey Tina! Blaine said you need mail so here's some mail! I'm not much of a writer, but I'll try to think of something, LOL. Blaine played me some of the songs by that Irish band you guys like. It's funny how excited he is about them because I think he's about 0% Irish. You too though, but I don't know if you're as excited about them as he is. But then, I saw him get all excited about this Beatles song and he probably isn't British at all either. Uh ... I just realized I'm having a really boring summer. I can't think of anything to write about. I've been spending most of my free time at home doing sketches of some of the animals in the park. I'll put a couple in the envelope to make up for this letter being so short. TTYL! Sam."

She looked at the sketches he sent: one of a bat in flight and one of some kind of spider on a stack of logs. They were incredibly detailed and life-like, especially for being just in pencil. If these were the sketches he was willing to fold up and mail off to Tina, she wondered what the really good ones looked like.

Later, while walking back to the classroom building, she ran into Michaela. "Tina! I'm dying!" she said. "Can you do something with my hair for me?"

"Well, I'm not even good with straight hair ..."

"I literally don't care what it looks like. I just want it off my neck."

"Yeah, okay. If you do me." Tina's hair was really hot too. She hadn't put it up before leaving the cabin because it was still wet when she left for breakfast, and it was hard to handle while wet.

"Deal."

They got to a bench and Michaela sat and fished out some hair ties and bobby pins for Tina to use. Michaela's hair was a little damp from sweat, as were Tina's hands, but somehow she managed to get the hair into two pigtails, which she then twisted and tied together and pinned to the top of Michaela's head. Michaela did a much better job on Tina, giving her a pretty respectable bun.

"Thanks," Tina said, standing. "Sorry yours looks a little ..."

"It feels much better, though. And anyway, this isn't beauty camp." They walked into the classroom building together. "Sure you don't wanna go to problem solving class with me?"

The kids who went to the problem solving classes were mostly the ones who were really serious about the weekly competitions. Tina and Michaela were on the same team, and Michaela wanted her to be as obsessed as she was. If Tina hadn't pretty much single-handedly led their team to victory last week _without_ having gone to the class, Michaela would no doubt be pestering her about it even more.

"Maybe next week," Tina said. She really liked the class she was taking now on combinatorial set theory, but it would be over at the end of the week. And then who knew? The competitions were fun; the class might be too.

**July 30, 2011**

Tina, it turned out, _was_ competitive when it came to the weekly math contest—about as much as Michaela, in fact, which surprised her. Their team won this week again, but not by as wide a margin as the first week, and it was kind of freaking her out. She was definitely going to start taking it more seriously, including going to those classes. Unfortunately it was Saturday and there were no classes on the weekend, but she checked one of the problem solving books out of the little camp library and was reading it down by the lake. She spent most of the morning there and returned right after lunch.

She didn't go back to the book immediately because she had picked up her mail after lunch. There was a postcard from Charlie and letters from Scott and Pauline. She'd given Pauline the camp address _before_ she stopped wanting to have anything to do with her, obviously.

Charlie's postcard had a picture of Rick Santorum on the front, with the caption "Frothy." He'd been bringing him up ever since Tina made the mistake of expressing squeamishness at the meaning of his name. But now she was getting used to it. It _was_ really funny, and if anyone deserved it it was that asswipe. On the back Charlie had written, "I saw this card and thought of you! They also had t-shirts. Guess what you're getting for your birthday?"

Tina opened Scott's letter before Pauline's. (In fact she hadn't decided yet whether to read Pauline's at all.) It was handwritten like his last one, but much shorter.

"Dear Tina,

"I'm going through some stuff right now that I think I have to work through on my own. I don't feel like I can really talk to anyone for a while. I probably won't write to you anymore, but I just want you to know that it's because of this stuff that's going on and not because of you.

"Take care,

"Scott."

She read it through a few times before folding it back up and sticking it inside the problem solving book.

Holly—Tina hadn't even noticed before that she was there—walked down the pier to her and asked, "Is everything okay?"

Tina shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at her. "I just got dumped?"

Holly slipped her sandals off, sat down next to her, and put her feet in the water. "You say that like you're not sure."

"No, I'm sure. That's the one part of the letter I do get." She took it out of the book and handed it to Holly. "What do you think?"

"What kind of 'stuff' do you think he's going through?" Holly asked after she read it.

"I have no idea. He never mentioned anything that was especially bothering him. I don't even know if he's going through 'stuff' at all or if he just thought it sounded like the nicest way to break up with me."

"Yeah, obviously I don't know if you don't." She kicked at the water for a minute before adding, "I don't think you ever even mentioned having a boyfriend."

This was true, even though the two of them had talked quite a bit. It turned out they had a lot in common, including being vegetarians and atheists. "We weren't that serious," Tina said. "I'm not really that broken up about the letter ... uh, no pun intended. I just ... Should I even write back, do you think? I mean, if he really is going through some shit, I don't wanna seem like I don't care. But if he's not ... or even if he is, I guess ... I don't want him to think that I'm an idiot and I don't get that he broke up with me. I mean, especially if he was just trying to be nice, I don't want him to think he has to be brutally honest for me to get the message. I mean, if there's anything to be brutally honest _about_."

"Uh huh," Holly said.

"I mean, what would you do?"

Holly looked down at the water for a few minutes before answering. "I guess I'd take the letter at face value. You know, write back, express sympathy for whatever he's going through but say you understand and you won't write him anymore unless he writes you first. Maybe add something like, 'If you change your mind and decide you do want to talk about it, I'm here.'"

Tina watched a boat on the far side of the lake while she considered Holly's advice. "Yeah," she said finally. "Thanks, that actually makes sense. Hey, while you're at it, with all the great counselor-y advice, you wanna read another letter I got?"

"I'd rather consider it friendly advice, but sure."

Tina took out the letter from Pauline. Holly saw the postcard too and laughed. "My brother," Tina explained. "He likes to gross me out."

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me." Tina had already told her a little about Charlie. Holly took the envelope. "You haven't even opened this yet."

"I know. I want you to read it and tell me if it contains an apology. If it doesn't I'm not interested."

"What did ..." Holly read the name on the return address ... "P. Brennan do to you?"

"She knows," Tina said.

"Fair enough." Holly opened the letter and read it. "Nope. No apology."

"Cunt," Tina said. Then, "Sorry."

Holly covered her ears jokingly. "My virgin ears have been defiled!"

Tina smiled at her and said, "I'm really fucking sorry." She stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the cabin to write back to Scott."

"You want this back?" Holly held out Pauline's letter.

"I guess," Tina said, shrugging as she took it. She tucked it back in the book, still unread.


End file.
